


Leather & Lace

by TheQuietQuill



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, American Football, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, British Slang, Christmas, Closeted Character, Deception, Dom Harry, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Famous Harry, Famous Liam, Fashion & Couture, Football Player Liam, Football Player Louis, Homophobia, I'm guessing here, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kinda?, M/M, Model Eleanor, Model Harry, Multi, NFL, New Year's Eve, Oral Sex, Riding, Rimming, Smoking, Smut, Sub Liam, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, but it's mild tho, closeted Liam, idk - Freeform, role play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-11-29 12:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQuietQuill/pseuds/TheQuietQuill
Summary: “So, you’re a fan of Gucci?” Harry asks politely.“A huge fan,” Liam tells him with a warm smile, “Their stuff is amazing.”Harry scoffs, “Their stuff?” Liam’s lips curl to the side in a wicked smirk.“Particularly, their choice of male models is,” he scans his eyes up and down Harry and whispers, “impeccable.” Harry swallows thickly, his eyes scanning up to meet Liam’s.“Yeah?”“Yeah,” Liam breathes out, his voice weak. Harry’s heart patters rapidly in his chest, “I wanted to rip your clothes off on the runway and take you right there.”Harry curls his lip in and breathes out heavily at the image.Or: Model!Harry meets American Footballer!Liam





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> HIII!!! New chaptered fic! I have done one in a while and I'm super stoked! I started writing this fic over a year ago! Originally, Liam was gonna be a British football player....but I don't know football/soccer that well! YIKES! So I made it based in America with Harry being from the UK. Hence the title, Liam is leather (as in American football) and Harry's lace :) 
> 
> I don't know how many chapters will be posted for this fic. I'm thinking 5-10?? But idk. Additionally, I don't have a scheduled routine planned for posting chapters. You'll have to check out my blog to find out when I'll post other chapters! 
> 
> Anyways, here's Leather & Lace! Please read and enjoy! :)

“Models! The show starts in five minutes! Be ready in your first outfits!”

                Harry buttons the last button on his shirt as the message over the PA ends. He stares at his reflection in the mirror and grins at himself. He does look like a million bucks, and strangely enough that’s almost how much Harry is making for this runway show. Okay maybe not _exactly_ a million dollars but pretty damn close to it.

                Harry originally had nothing planned this weekend, which was welcoming to him. He wanted to sleep in on Saturday and eat crisps like a proper hog and maybe have brunch on Sunday. For Harry, this sounded heavenly as he is in dire need of a break and had been for a long time.

                But…sadly, these glorious plans came to an end. When the CEO of Gucci himself calls you and begs you to model in his show because a male model got arrested or something like that, you take the call no matter what. Harry has a special place in his heart for Gucci and he could never say no to them.

                But Harry Styles, male model extraordinaire, does not come cheap and his agent got Gucci to pay him extra for late notice, which is nice.

                “Ah, Harry! Harry!” Harry turns around and the Head Designer of Gucci, Dottie Rosenthal, hugs him when she stops at his rack of clothing. It’s sheer chaos around them, as all shows are minutes before show time. Models of every color and gender are running around, declaring that their makeup is shite and that there’s a tear in their garment. Harry hears some girl a few feet away shouting at her agent on her mobile, claiming she’s never doing another show ever again in her young life.

                Harry loves every second of it.

                “Hello Dottie!” Harry smiles happily. He loves the woman. She’s a genius in the fashion world and always compliments Harry. He loves Dottie a lot, “Am I ready for the catwalk?” The woman steps back and eyes Harry’s outfit. Dottie fondly smiles as she straightens Harry’s collar.

                “You know you are, kid,” Harry beams, “you always look great in prints and fall colors. Any color is your color, really. You’re a designer’s dream come true.”

                Harry smirks, “You’re gonna make me blush before I go on, Dottie.” Dottie giggles.

                “Well we can’t have that now, can we?” she shakes her head, “I told those big wigs at the top from the beginning that we needed you in our show from the beginning. But you had some scheduling conflict?” Harry nods.

                “Yes, yes. I had a shoot in LA for Tommy Hilfiger, for a new fragrance. But the director got sick and the shoot was cancelled. So I ended up leaving there yesterday and got back when I got the call,” he nudges Dottie’s shoulder, “you can thank your lucky stars I became available.”

                “I already have,” the older woman barks back with a playful wink, “Now I would wish you good luck but you and I both know you don’t need it.”

                Dottie trots over to a model who’s fidgeting with the large hat with what looks like are features billowing off her head. Harry smiles as he does a last once over at his reflection. He loves this outfit if he’s honest with himself. He loves the black, silk suit with accents of burgundy and blue. It’s not traditional, at all, and that’s why Harry loves it. He loves the pops of large tigers repeated throughout the suit that seems to jump out. Harry models for every high end clothing brand in the world, but Gucci holds a special place in his heart.

                “So the rumors were true, eh?” Harry scoffs and turns around. Eleanor Calder has a fond smirk on her lips and a coy look in her eye. Harry shrugs and holds his hands out as he shrugs.

                “Sorry you can’t have the runway to yourself tonight, Calder,” he remarks playfully and Eleanor rolls her eyes.

                Easily, Eleanor Calder is the most up and coming female models in the industry. And Harry isn’t surprised. She’s tall, but not too tall, and naturally thin which designers love. She has a simple face that can change from gig to gig and Harry has that talent too. The tabloids say that they hate each other, that Eleanor is jealous of Harry’s success and Harry sees Eleanor as his only competition in the modeling world.

                But really, whenever they can, Harry and Eleanor have pizza and game nights together. She’s the only one of Harry’s friends that actually indulges his love for Scrabble.

                “I’m more then willing to share a show with you, Styles,” she tells him and eyes a younger, clearly inexperienced model that passes in front of them, “It’s all these middle school models who have no clue what they’re doing that I hate sharing the runway with.”

                Harry laughs, “God, I know the feeling.”

                “How’d the Hilfiger ad go?” Eleanor asks as she steps up beside him, her hands flouncing her hair into place. Off to the side, Harry notices a hair dresser give Eleanor the snake eye but the stylist doesn’t say anything. What could he do anyways? She’s Eleanor fucking Calder.

                “The director got sick, or something-I don’t bloody know. It got poseponed” he shrugs and looks up at Eleanor to find her smirking fondly at him.

                “Aww,” she coos, “I’ve missed your accent!”

                Harry rolls his eyes as she starts pinching his cheeks.

                “Apparently, that papes say I’m losing my British accent! They say I’m sounding more American every day.”

                Eleanor blinks, her eyes slightly furrowed, “The fuck are they on about?! Have they not heard you talk, like ever?! You’re accent is thick as your hair, love.”

                “I know,” Harry agrees easily and then guiltily admits, “I just haven’t gone back home in ages. Mum’s been on my arse about going back to the mother land.”

                Eleanor scoffs and mutters, “Great Britain: Home of All the Rain.”

                “And Burberry!” Harry tacks on with a grin.

                “PLACES EVERYONE! GET IN LINE RIGHT NOW! SHOW STARTS IN TWO MINUTES!”

                Eleanor smirks at Harry as they linked elbows and begin to walk leisurely. All around them it becomes more chaotic. People are running around, some half dressed and the crew frantically tries to assemble everyone and make sure everything’s in order before the music starts. But Harry is completely at ease, and so is Eleanor for that matter. They’re considered seasoned bros by today’s standards, having done this roughly four years or so. There’s nothing to fret any more.

                “I think we’re both in the middle of the line,” Eleanor tells him and Harry grins.

                “I’m after you, as always.” Eleanor sighs lowly.

                “It’s too bad the audience has to see a shit ton of models before the best ones come on.”

                Harry grins slyly, “Now, now Eleanor. We must be humble and gracious.”

                “Please,” Eleanor scoffs, “I haven’t been humble or gracious since I was seventeen. And neither have you for that matter.” Harry grins like a cat.

                “Who have we got in the audience tonight?” he ponders, clearly amused. Eleanor waves her hand carelessly about.

                “Same old, same old. Celebrities, other fashion moguls. Oooh! But apparently some famous Football player is here tonight. I guess he loves Gucci or something and wanted to see the new fall collection.”

                Harry sighs as the come to the line, “Ah, a man of good taste.”

                Eleanor smirks as she walks in front of him in the line. Harry stays put as models fit in the line around them and the lights go down.

                “Don’t face-plant on the runway, Styles!” Eleanor whispers in the near blackness. Harry laughs challengingly.

                “And don’t break your ankles, Calder!” he jokes. Even in near blackness, Harry can tell Eleanor is smiling.

                And the first look walks out. Surprisingly, this Gucci show is mostly made up of newbies and no namers as far as models go. Well besides Eleanor and Harry of course, who are the most sought after models in the industry after all.

                As the line gets shorter and shorter, Harry gets into his element. He moves his limbs and shakes out any tense in them so that they’re loose and relaxed on the runway. He has strikingly casual, fierce but at ease. It’s a delicate balance that Harry’s perfected over the years. As he gets closer to the stage, Harry moves his face muscles as little bubbles of adrenaline pop in his stomach. This excites him more then anything. Photoshoots are easy but runway shows are a one time deal; he has to get it right in one go.

                And Harry Styles never fails.

                He squeezes Eleanor’s hand before she walks out on the runway. Harry peers over the curtain and watches her walk. It’s perfection, as usual. Eleanor is graceful out there; she’s a walking canvas for designer clothes. Eleanor’s a Van Gogh painting and Harry considers himself a Monet.

                The show manager taps him on the shoulder and Harry’s off on the runway.

                It’s game time.

                Harry keeps his eyes trained on the back wall of the venue as white hot lights beam in his face. He keeps his eyes naturally wide as he makes casual long strides down the white runway. He keeps his face neutral as heavy bass music blares around him as he strolls on with grace and ease. Eleanor passes him on his left as she comes back. From the corner of his eye, he sees her smirking at him when they pass. But Harry keeps his face solid. His walk is powerful; every head in the room moves with his feet. Harry feels their eyes’ searing into his fine Gucci suit and brushes them all off.

                Well, expect one pair of eyes.   

                Harry makes it to the end of the runway and stops and poses for the cameras. Mistakenly, as Harry turns, his gaze falls and his eyes connect with a man sitting right in the middle where Harry is posing. The man is quite handsome with a strong jawline and a long face with dark features. The intense stare he gives Harry makes his heart flutter and he briefly breaks his stare. But he pulls himself together and turns around walk back up the runway.

                “Did you see that fucking hot man in the front row? At the end of the runway?” Harry asks Eleanor hurriedly as interns peel off his first outfit backstage. Eleanor turns around, her tits out on full display and she frowns as she shimmies up into her next dress, with two aids heling her.

                “Harry fucking Styles! You pick now of all times to check guys out when I’ve been asking you to come out to bars with me for months!”

                Harry swallows and nods to himself, “Yeah, you’re right.” he breathes out as he steps into a pair of black slacks. Two aids move down to his changing area, their hands unbuttoning the gorgeous suit and untying the bow tie. He tries to ignore the way is heart is beating rapidly.

~~~

                “Cheers to us!” Eleanor yells as she clinks her champagne flute against Harry’s. Harry smirks as he raises the glass to his lips.

                There are always after parties-always, always, always. Usually, Harry’s quite tired after a show and he doesn’t go to the parties, even though he’s always invited obviously. But Eleanor begged him after the show ended to go out with her. Harry just wanted a hot shower and to sleep for an entire day. But Eleanor promised him that she would buy Harry all the drink he could ever want. And so he’s here now, in some VIP room in some swanky high class longue in New York with his best friend and not regretting it.

                Eleanor downs half her champagne in one go and grins up at Harry, “Another successful show under our belts!” She leans back into the leather couch and sighs, “God I need a good fuck. I feel on top of the world!” Harry grins as he sets his drink down on the table in front of them.

                “And now you want to be on top of a man.” Eleanor makes a scandalized look and smacks Harry’s chest.

                “My, My Harry. And you kiss your mom-or I mean _mum_ , with those lips?” she grins fondly as Harry snickers, “I’m convinced we’re the same person, you and me. If I had a dick I’d be you for sure.”

                Harry laughs at the idea, “Thank God you don’t have a dick. You’d be stiff competition.” Eleanor raises her eyebrows and leans into Harry’s side.

                “In more ways then one, I’m sure of it.” Harry nearly spits his drink out. Instead, he swallows it quickly and laughs along with Eleanor, the two giggling deep into the couch with the legs tangled together. The room stares at them; most of them entranced, others annoyed.

                But it’s why Harry and Eleanor get along so well; they’re both outspoken and will do whatever it takes to get what they want. They’re determined, strong willed people and Harry admires Eleanor so much. Models are taught to be poised and proper and never talk out of turn; Eleanor challenged those notions long ago. People either love her and admire her greatly or they despise her. Harry happens to adore her.

                Eleanor’s gaze land on something behind Harry and she plants her and hand on Harry’s chest, “Oh, that man is gorgeous! Do you reckon he fancies a nice fuck with a world famous model?”

                Going for non-conspicuous, Harry leans over to pick up his drink and ever so casually glances over to the side. The man’s at the bar with his acquaintances around him but his eyes are locked on Harry. He’s still wearing last season’s grey suit with a skinny black tie and fuck Harry has to lick his lips because the man is stunning truly. His buff and tanned and looks impeccable in a Gucci suit.  

                Harry shamelessly licks his lips.

                Harry leans back slowly and whispers to Eleanor, “That’s the guy I saw at the show! He’s fit, yeah?”

                “He certainly is _fit_ , or _hot_ as I would say,” Eleanor comments and Harry rolls his eyes. She downs the rest of her drink and stands up, “I’m gonna talk to him, okay?” Harry nods as she leans down and kisses Harry’s cheek before practically skipping to the bar.

                For the next half hour, Harry watches with lidded eyes as Eleanor flirts with Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous at the bar. She touches him on the arm innocently and giggles at everything he says. Harry has now switched over from champagne to golden tequila on the rocks and is nursing it slowly. He hates the ping of jealously that’s sitting heavy in his chest. It’s not Eleanor’s fault that Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous is straight. It just hurts a bit. He wants to be the one that a man fawns over. Harry catches the man looking over at him every now and again.

                Harry’s wallowing in self pity when Eleanor walks back with Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous laced on her elbow. Harry perks up and sits up on the edge of the couch. Eleanor smirks down at him, but Harry’s eyes are on Mr. Last Season because holy fuck he’s even hotter up close in person.

                “Harry, I’d like you to meet Liam,” Eleanor introduces. Liam. Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous/Mr. Last Season is named Liam. Harry makes a note to remember that forever and ever. Eleanor sighs happily as she sits down beside Harry and Liam sits down beside her. Liam nods at Harry with warm eyes and he looks dangerous in last season’s suit and natural charm.

                Harry’s fucked.

                “Nice to meet you, Harry,” Liam speaks out, his voice naturally low and smooth. Harry wants to jump his bones right here and now but he can’t because Liam apparently fucks women, not men. Just Harry’s luck. Liam coughs tightly, “I saw you on the runway. You were great, a true natural.”

                Harry nods once, his face stone like, “Thanks.” Eleanor giggles.

                “Oh please, Harry! You’re being too modest!” she scolds him playfully, “You were _fantastic_ out there! You know you were. If Liam says were great then you were great!”

                Liam shrugs with a challenging smirk on his lips, “Whatever Liam says.” He says it in a way that doesn’t sound so innocent at all. Harry gnaws on his lip as he takes a quick sip of his tequila.

                “So what do you do, Liam?” he asks easily. Liam seems to ponder on this for a second before he answers.

                “I’m in business,” he says dully. Harry looks at the suit and shrugs agreeing. He looks like he’d be in business, Harry reckons.

                They all talk politely about the weather and fashion. Liam’s from America, somewhere in the Mid-West. Harry decides he loves Liam’s accent and would listen to him talk all day, but he doesn’t say much. Then again Harry and Eleanor are cackling with each other every five seconds and talking in their own sort of language. Harry throws his head back and laughs with a huge smile on his face every now and then and Liam’s always watching him closely.

                “I’m off to have a smoke,” He tells Eleanor and kisses her cheek. Harry’s gaze lands on Liam and surprise, surprise he is looking at him. Harry smirks to the side as he stands up and if he struts out of the room as if he were on the runway, no one has to know.

                The night is cool and welcoming to Harry. Liam staring at him all night made his skin impossibly hot and oddly tense. He reaches in his pocket for his smokes and grabs one cigarette with his elegant fingers. He places his cigarette in his mouth and reaches in his pockets for his lighter.

                “I’ve got it,” Harry’s spooked at the voice but his nerves are relaxed when he sees Liam in front of him with a lighter. Harry grins and leans down slightly and Liam’s lighter flickers on. Harry’s eyes are trained on Liam as his cigarette gets lit and Liam doesn’t look away at all either.

                Harry pulls back and inhales the thick smoke, “Thanks,” he breathes out and a trail of smoke leaves his lips. Liam nods to himself and pockets his lighter.

                “Do you smoke often?” he asks Harry. Harry shakes his head as he takes another drag.

                “Only when I do runway shows,” Harry says and then explains, “I get shaky on days when I walk a show, all the adrenaline or whateves. When I started out, my agent gave me cigarettes to calm me down. I don’t need them anymore, it’s just a habit I guess.”

                Harry sees from the corner of his eyes, Liam nods. Harry smirks.

                “What about you, Liam? Do you smoke a lot?”

                “Never have.”

                Harry frowns, “Then how-”

                “A few of my friends do,” Liam says then scoffs to himself, “My best friend, Louis, smokes a lot and constantly loses his lighter. I couldn’t stand him whining on _‘where the Hell is my lighter?!’_ so I keep one on hand all the time,” Harry grins.

                “Some friend you are.”

                “Indeed.”

                Harry looks off into the night. New York is bright with life and Harry’s on a roof top garden with possibly the hottest man he’s ever seen. Harry think about Liam and how Liam doesn’t smoke so Harry drops his half smoked cigarette to the ground and steps on it.

                “So, you’re a fan of Gucci?” Harry asks politely.

                “A huge fan,” Liam tells him with a warm smile, “Their stuff is amazing.”

                Harry scoffs, “Their stuff?” Liam’s lips curl to the side in a wicked smirk.

                “Particularly, their choice of male models is,” he scans his eyes up and down Harry and whispers, “impeccable.” Harry swallows thickly, his eyes scanning up to meet Liam’s.

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah,” Liam breathes out, his voice weak. Harry’s heart patters rapidly in his chest, “I wanted to rip your clothes off on the runway and take you right there.”

                Harry curls his lip in and breathes out heavily at the image.

                “I thought you we staring at me,” Harry says evenly, his hand brushing against Liam’s upper arm, “I’m usually not wrong about these kind of things but Eleanor was flirting with you.”

                Liam shook his head, “She knows I wasn’t interested,” then suddenly, Liam’s finger is stroking his cheek. Harry shudders at the light touch, making Liam smirk, “I’ve only got eyes for you, baby.”

                It’s like a switch has been flipped and Liam is suddenly a whole new man. He’s no longer sheepish, but rather billowing with confidence. It’s sexy as Hell and Harry only has time to gasp quickly before Liam tugs him in for an urgent kiss.

                Liam tastes like scotch and mints and had a perfect set of lips that he knows how to use. Harry whimpers when Liam’s tongue pokes into his mouth. Harry rolls his tongue against Liam’s, earning a deep groan from the man. He feels Liam growing hard against his thigh and he teasingly rolls his leg against it. Liam pushes him back against a brick wall and breaks the kiss, his lips finding Harry’s neck instantly. Harry smirks dazedly when Liam’s hands squeeze his arse possessively.

                “Fuck,” Harry breathes out. Liam smirks cunningly, his eyes dark in the autumn moon.

                “Love your accent,” Liam comments, his gaze soft, “It’s cute.”

                Harry huffs, his cheeks flaming, “I don’t have accent, love. _You_ do.”

                “Let’s agree to disagree,” Liam says and then suggests, “Want to come back to my place?” Liam asks, his fingers twirling around Harry’s curl. Harry grins sheepishly as he nods happily.

                They quickly, and separately, walk back into the longue. Eleanor’s moved on and is now talking to one of the other male models by the bar. Harry leans over and grabs his bomber jacket beside her.

                “I’m off to get fucked!” Harry whispers in her ear excitedly. Eleanor scoffs and kisses his cheek.

                “Have fun, dear. Do be safe!”

                Liam’s outside already when Harry gets there, look devilishly handsome while leaning against his black range rover. He grins at Harry, just for his eyes only and it makes Harry feel dizzy. Liam wordlessly opens the back door of his fancy black car and Harry slides into the backseat. Once Liam’s inside and his closes the door, Harry’s on top of him once again, kissing him fiercely as he crawls onto Liam’s lap. He grinds shamelessly on Liam’s thigh and Liam holds onto his hips tightly.

                “You have your own bloody driver?” Harry mumbles as the car begins to move, “You must be bloody good at your job,” he says breathlessly. Liam smirks as Harry begins to unbutton the top few buttons of his Gucci dress shirt.

                The one thing Harry loves more than a man in high end clothing is a naked man.

                Liam sits up a little and pulls Harry closer. Harry’s quick gasp makes Liam grin, “You have no idea how good I am, baby.” Harry flickers his eyes up with a faux innocent expression.

                “Prove it to me.” 

                And Liam does.

                He bites down on the sharp angle of Harry’s jaw, right under his left ear. Harry holds onto Liam and his breath hitches as Liam sucks a mark on that spot determinedly. Harry squirms in delight but Liam holds him in place. Harry’s skin prickles with goosebumps when Liam’s tongue drags across his skin to the shell of his ear. Harry whimpers and rubs himself off on Liam’s leg for some sort of relief. But Liam’s hands stop halt his actions.

                “Not. Yet,” Liam grunts out and Harry stills completely. Liam smirks and dives back into Harry’s neck. He nibbles down on the bruise forming there and Harry lets out a high pitch whine, “Love the sounds you’re making baby.”

                And God this night is gonna be incredible. Harry just knows it will be.

                By the graces of Heaven, the car comes to a stop not too long after. Liam looks out the window then back at Harry and he grins as he strokes Harry’s neck where the bruise is billowing.

                “I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he applies pressure on the mark and Harry hisses, “does that sound good baby? Me taking care of you and giving you everything you need?”

                Harry nods quickly and all but begs, “Please.” Liam scoffs.

                “Pretty and polite,” he murmurs and smirks into an oddly sweet kiss. Harry doesn’t have any time to kiss back before Liam pulls away and fondly looks at Harry, “I’ve hit the jackpot with you.”

                Liam gets out of the car first and hangs back until Harry steps out on the pavement on shaky knees. He flashes Harry a closed smile and takes his hand and this gesture makes Harry blush madly. Liam tells his driver to have a goodnight and the two are off. Liam runs up to the building and Harry blindly tags along, his harden dick pressed against the seam of his trousers. Liam lets go of Harry’s hand to fish out his keys and Harry takes that time to kiss Liam swiftly on the cheek. It seems to leave Liam a little flustered and Harry smirks at that.

                He refuses to let Liam have all the control.

                Liam opens the door and stands aside to let Harry in. Harry giggles and tugs Liam along inside what looks to be a condo or a townhouse. Harry isn’t sure and quite frankly, he doesn’t care. As long as there’s a place for Liam to fuck him senselessly, Harry just doesn’t care what the rest of the house looks like. Liam switches the lights on and Harry somehow gets harder. The place is all clean lines and modern fixtures. The walls are white and a few abstract colorful art hangs from the walls. There’s a nice fireplace in the living area and on the mantel above it is an American football. Harry frowns at it, as it seems out of place but doesn’t think much of it when his eyes land on the nice leather couch in the center of the room.

                Harry runs over to it, his hand grasping onto Liam’s sleeve, and pushes Liam down on the couch. Liam’s all giggly at Harry’s eagerness. Harry cocks his eyebrow and takes his jacket off the tosses it at Liam.

                That shuts Liam up.

                “You’re fucking gorgeous,” Liam tells his seriously. Harry rolls his eyes fondly as he undoes his tie.

                “Two compliments in under ten minutes, Liam?” Harry asks him teasingly as he crawls unto Liam’s lap. He rubs Liam’s chest and almost moans at the feeling of expensive, smooth Gucci thread that makes up Liam’s shirt. His eyes are dark as he looks up to Liam, “You’re far too kind.”

                Liam smirks crookedly, “I can’t help it if I think you’re this generation’s Audrey Hepburn.” Harry sputters a surprised laugh.

                “Liam, Liam, Liam,” Harry chides, shaking his head a little. He moves up do his lips are lingering above Liam’s, “You’re already getting in my pants. There’s no need to all the sweet talk.” Liam frowns up at him as Harry’s hands begin to move downward.

                “You’re not into sweet talk?” Harry shakes his head with an ever so sweet smile.

                “I’m into fucking,” he tells him bluntly and grabs Liam’s dick roughly through his pants. Liam gasps and throws his head back. Harry smirks as he continues to rub Liam off and he bits his lip. Liam feels very generous and he’s dying to see him in full flesh.

                “You play dirty, Styles,” Liam says breathlessly in awe, “so fucking dirty.” Harry grins and leans back. Liam doesn’t seem to like this because he tries to pull Harry back, “No, baby. Don’t leave me.”

                Harry scoffs and shakes his head, “We’re both wearing Gucci.” Liam frowns.

                “So?”

                _“Sooo,”_ Harry chides playfully as he unbuttons his own shirt, “No funny business can happen while wearing Gucci! It’s sac religious.”

                Liam shakes his head, his lips stretched in a wide smile, “You’re somethin’ else Styles.” But he leans forward and takes off his suit jacket. Harry’s delighted by this.

                They spend the next few minutes undressing in silence, their gaze only breaking when Liam pulls his undershirt off his chest. He smirks up at Harry because Harry is openly eyeing Liam’s chest. He’s got broad shoulders and muscular arms and pecs and a very hair chest, one that Harry’s dreaming of planting his cheek in the center of that hairy chest and never wants to leave it. Everything about Liam screams _man, man, man_ and Harry fucking loves it. Harry tugs off his trousers in one quick motion and Liam gasps.

                “You weren’t wearing briefs? The entire time?” Liam asks and Harry coyly bites his lip. Liam’s eyes widen, “Even at the show?”

                Harry’s skin turns pink, his cock hardened half way, “Guilty.” Some darker force clouds over Liam’s eyes.

                “Get. Here. Now.” He demands roughly and oh boy-Harry’s got chills. He obeys easily and even kneels in between Liam’s parted legs, surrendering himself. Liam must like this as he cracks a smile, “Good, baby. Now take my slacks off.”

                So Liam likes being in control, uh? Harry does too, but for tonight, Harry thinks he’s okay with relinquishing some control to Liam-emphasis on _some_. Harry unbuttons Liam’s trousers and unzips teasingly slow. Liam huffs angrily, his hips bouncing up impatiently, and Harry giggles as he takes mercy on the poor man. The poor, incredibly sexy man. Liam lifts his hips up and Harry pulls down his trousers and pants in one go. Liam’s cock springs back on his lower abdomen, fleshed and throbbing. Harry’s mouth waters at the sight.

                Liam smirks as he strokes his thighs, “You like it, baby?” Harry nods wordlessly, eyes wide and nearly black, “I bet you want to taste it, don’t you? I bet you look real pretty with a cock in your mouth.”

                “Fuck,” Harry breathes out. He loves dirty talk and Liam seems to be a master at it. Liam smirks wickedly as he leans forward and captures Harry’s face with one of his hands.

                “Not tonight, baby,” he whispers before stand up. Harry blinks as Liam moves around. Harry turns and sees Liam standing and pointing at the glass coffee table beside him, about a foot or so in front of the couch, “Get on here, baby. Hands and knees with your cute little ass in the air.”

                Harry’s pretty sure he’s gonna die on that table. Instead of walking like a normal person, Harry crawls on the hardwood floor to the glass table and makes sure to sway is ass dramatically to give Liam a proper show. He hears Liam bite back a moan and Harry will take it as a victory. Harry crawls up the modern, perfectly large and even glass table and does what Liam commands.

                “Good job baby,” Liam murmurs and smacks Harry’s right ass cheek. Harry’s entire body stiffens and he grips onto the front edge of the table.

                He watches Liam’s shadow casts over him as the man walks in front of him. He’s fucking whistling and his arms sway easily as he walks butt naked to the fireplace at the front of the room. Harry shamelessly stares at Liam’s ass and the long line of his fucking muscular back. Harry dumbly thinks he must workout a lot; Liam would have to in order to have this God like body. Liam presses a button and artificial flames ripple in the fireplace and soon there’s a contained, yet roaring fire raging not even five feet away from Harry’s face. Instantly, Harry’s skin heats up. Liam turns to him and smirks happily as he strolls off to the left, Harry’s eyes follow Liam’s impressive cock until the man’s out of sight.

                Liam is fucking strange but Harry’s way too intrigued by him to even fucking care.

                When Liam returns a moment later, he places a condom on the coffee table in between Harry’s spread legs. Harry hears Liam uncap something a second later and then there’s a hand on his hip.

                “You’re quite a sight, Styles,” Liam comments as his hand moves down his left ass cheek. He pinches the fattest part without warning and Harry groans deep in his chest. Harry can practically hear Liam smiling as he says, “You’re the prettiest aren’t you baby?”

                Harry smirks to himself as he’s reminded of the conversation they had earlier at the lounge, “Whatever Liam says.” Liam chuckles at this and Harry feels on top of the world.

                But then Liam slips in one finger in his hole quickly with no warning. Harry sucks in a deep breath and curls his fingers around the edge of the table until his knuckles are white. He breathes through it, as Liam’s thick finger circles inside of him. He seems to know what he’s doing because his finger brushes against Harry’s spot every now and again, not hard enough to get him off but enough to keep him interested.

                And Harry’s very interested in Liam.

                Liam bends over Harry’s body and whispers nothing and everything into Harry’s shoulder as he pushes a second finger in. Liam bites and sucks another mark into Harry’s neck as his fingers move confidently in and out of him. Harry’s panting by now, with the heat radiating from the fireplace and Liam’s teeth on his skin and his fingers pleasuring him. Liam twists his fingers just the right way and hits Harry’s spot briskly and so hard that Harry’s body shifts forward on the table.

                “Fuck,” he moans, lips parted and sweat beginning to drip down his face. Liam repeats the action until Harry’s seeing spot behind his eyes and his chest heaves for air.

                “Such a good baby,” Liam tells him as he slides a third finger into him. Harry whines as his sweaty palms try to hold onto the table. The table digs into his hands and his boney knees are on fire as he holds himself up but he feels so fucking good he doesn’t care, “You feel so good baby. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

                Liam moves and twists his fingers more rapidly. Harry lets out a high pitched moan as Liam’s fingers fuck him raw. Liam curls them right onto Harry’s prostate and Harry’s whole body trembles in delight.

                “Please,” Harry begs, voice high and whiny, “p-please fuck me.”

                Liam smiles against Harry’s shoulder, “Anything for you, baby.”

                Liam pulls out a second later. Harry drops his head and watches as Liam picks up the condom. He hears the wrapper being torn open and a second later, the condom wrapper is on the table. Harry picks his head up and looks behind him as Liam rolls on the condom and gives himself a few firm strokes. He looks up at Harry and grins oddly shy, and wraps his left hand around Harry’s left hip. Harry’s eyes flutter close when he feels the tip of Liam’s dick press against his hole.

                “You ready baby?” Liam asks.

                Harry nods, “Please,” he cries out.

                And Liam pushes in.

                Harry swears everything stops for a moment or so. Liam’s so huge and thick and wonderful. There’s a bit of pressure but it’s welcomed, definitely welcomed. Liam’s hands slowly guide Harry’s hips back onto his cock and with every inch being pushed inside of him, Harry feels lightheaded. Liam goes all the way inside and thankfully Liam stops because it’s just on the edge of almost being too much. Harry’s full on sweating now and his limps ache but at the same time he’s skin is tingling with arousal. He drops his head and seeks his cock, red and full and the tip leaking pre-cum on the glass table.

                “You okay, baby?” Liam asks, his hand smoothing down Harry’s lower back.

                Harry nods breathlessly and he fights off the urge reach his hand back to cover Liam’s hand. He doesn’t know why he wants to do that.

                “Words, baby,” Liam demands and Harry bites back a sigh.

                “I’m good-just go, please. Just- _fuck_!” Liam chooses that moment to draw back almost entirely then fuck back inside roughly. All Harry can do is hold onto the table to stop himself from falling off.

                Liam begins fucking him with slow, yet thorough thrusts that leave Harry in a quivering mess. Liam’s fingers dig into Harry’s boney hips as he picks up the pace, his hips hitting Harry’s ass echo off the walls to the large room. Liam grunts with each thrusts and Harry-Harry can’t even breathe properly. Harry feels like he’s melting into a giant puddle on top of the table as Liam steadily fucks him and sweat is dripping down his forehead and slides down his chest and falls like raindrops off his skin onto the glass.

                Liam moves just the right way and hits Harry’s spot dead on and Harry lets out a high whine, his eyes twisted shut and his mouth gaping. Suddenly, Liam stops moving and Harry has a million protests on his tongue but they turn silent as Liam grabs a handful of his dampened hair and yanks him up and against his chest with his knees flat on the table. Harry whimpers as Liam breathes in his ear.

                “You like that, baby?” Liam grunts out, voice incredibly low. Harry swallows and nods feverishly.

                “F-fuck yeah.” Liam smirks against his cheek.

                Harry expects Liam to push him back into his previous position and fuck the living daylights out of him. Instead, Liam wraps his strong arms around Harry like a bear hug and holds him up against his body. A second later, Liam’s hips begin to thrust again, this time going up into Harry. Harry gasps because this angle is magical. Liam fucks him, harder and faster then before and each thrust lands on Harry’s spot. Harry throws his head back on Liam’s shoulder and moves his arms around so that one is holding onto Liam’s shoulder and the other is behind his head. Liam’s lips are pressed onto Harry’s necks and it feels so intimate that it makes this all hotter somehow.

                “You’re close, yeah?” Liam asks breathlessly.

                Harry nods, his eyes closed and relishing in this. Liam holds onto him tighter, his nails dig into Harry’s sides as he fucks him earnestly. Harry’s stomach is coiling; his skin tingling and his mind hazy-so, so hazy. He feels Liam everywhere-inside him, around him and Harry loves the feeling.

                Harry feels Liam’s hand on his cock and Harry whimpers and squirms but Liam holds him in place. Everything suddenly becomes magnified.

                “You’re so pretty baby,” Liam grunts out, his hand pumping Harry’s dick along with his thrusts. Harry’s moan is trapped in his closed mouth, his hips moving back onto Liam’s cock. He’s right there, he just needs a little bit more. Liam’s hand speeds up, “So gorgeous, baby. I wanna see you cum. I bet you look so beautiful after getting fucked. Show me how pretty you are, baby.”

                And Harry does show him. He comes with a low groan in his throat and his cum hitting the glass table in spurts. Harry buckles against Liam as his orgasm takes over his senses. He’s pretty sure that Liam praises him and Liam’s still fucking him and it sorta makes Harry zone out into a place where he’s light as a feather and he can’t feel anything other then good; like really, really good. He feels Liam’s hips sputter against him and moans into Harry’s neck as he holds on tightly to him.

                “Harry? Are you okay?” Liam’s low, surprisingly caring voice draws him back into reality a moment later. Harry blinks open his eyes and Liam is now in front of him with a cute little furrowed expression. Liam’s hands are holding onto Harry’s and honestly, Harry’s sure that it’s the only thing keeping him upright and not on the ground.

                Harry smirks lazily, “Never. Better.” He assures Liam. Liam scoffs and smiles brightly.

                “Good,” he states, “because that was fucking incredible.” Harry sputters a weak laugh just as Liam suggests, “My room’s up stairs. I can carry you, if you like.”

                Harry’s mind starts to come back to him and he recalls that this isn’t normally how is one nighters go. Usually, afterwards, Harry’s tugging on his on trousers and looks for a half ass excuse to get the fuck out. But Liam seems…different, some how. He finds himself laughing at Liam’s suggestion.

                “I can walk,” Harry tells him playfully with a wide grin, “You didn’t fuck me _that_ hard.”

                Liam cocks an eyebrow, “Ah, then I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.” Harry smirks as his fingers trail up Liam’s arms.

                “Yes you will,” he singsongs and winks. Liam’s eyes are full of fondness as he shakes his head.

                Liam sheepishly pulls off his condom and ties the end off before throwing it in the bin. While he looks for his boxers, Harry wipes off the cum spot on the coffee table with a dish rag he nicked from Liam’s kitchen. Liam leads the way a moment later up the stairs and Harry reaches up to grope Liam’s ass and both men chuckle. Liam runs off and Harry chases him down the dark hall. Liam stops at the door on the end of the hallway and opens it up for Harry.

                The master bedroom is large and the walls are grey. Harry notes that there are no pictures in the room; in fact there’s hardly anything to the room other then the king sized bed and a mirror next to the door. There is, however, a closed suitcase at the foot of the bed. Harry ponders on it-maybe Liam just got back from a business trip?

                “Bathroom’s in there,” Liam points the door out to the far left of the room, “I’ll um, get you some boxers to wear.”

                Harry grins, “Thanks, mate.” He winces as they walk off in opposite directions because is it weird to call a guy you just slept with mate? Harry shakes his head as he enters the bathroom.

                Harry gives himself a quick shower at the sink and uses hand soap to clean off the sweat off his forehead, chest and armpits. He brushes his teeth with the toothpaste on the counter and his finger as a brush. His mum would kill him he she saw him doing this but one night off of his normally stellar dental hygiene routine won’t kill him. Harry notices the dark bruise on his neck and grins. He’s got a shoot on Monday and he knows it’ll still be there and that the make up people will have to work over time to cover it up.

                He doesn’t mind one bit.

                Harry’s greeted with boxers thrown at his face when walks back into the bedroom. Liam’s lounging on the bed under the dark blue covers, giggling at Harry’s pout.

                “Oi!” Harry huffs as he pulls on the random pair of plaid boxers Liam found for him, “A little heads up would be nice next time.”

                Liam smiles dreamily, “Next time,” he repeats. Harry rolls his eyes and strides his way to the bed.

                “Someone’s bloody optimistic,” he notes as he pulls back the duvet and climbs into bed. He sighs contently as he flips over so he’s facing Liam. It’s here where he finally notices that there’s a rather large, brown birthmark on Liam’s neck. Harry finds it adorable.

                Liam smirks into his pillow, “Can’t help it if I want to see you again,” he sighs as he reaches over to cup Harry’s cheek, “And fuck your brains out.” Harry sputters a laugh.

                “I bet you can’t wait to tell all your mates you fucked Harry Styles,” he comments jokingly, but Liam’s face falls. He’s not smiley anymore. In fact, Liam’s oddly serious right now as he looks at Harry with doe eyes.

                “You can’t tell anyone about this,” Liam tells him. Harry squints his eyes.

                “Why not?”

                Liam’s eyes fall away from Harry’s gaze, “I’m not…out yet.”

                “Ah,” Harry sighs.

                Liam clicks his tongue, “Yeah,” and casts his eyes downward.

                “Don’t worry, Liam,” Harry turns and kisses the palm of Liam’s hand, “I’m good at keeping secrets.” Liam flashes a weary smile.

                “So am I,” he confesses distastefully. Harry feels his heart ache for the man. He doesn’t know much about Liam but he seems like a decent guy. And Harry’s been there too; he spent a long time knowing he was gay but didn’t know how to go about coming out. It is daunting and Harry gets that and something inside Harry is tagging at him that makes him lean in and kisses Liam’s nose sweetly. Liam is adorably wide eyed when Harry pulls back.

                “Everything will fall into place,” Harry tells him, “it could be as random as waking up one morning and just being too tired to pretend anymore, as was the case for me. Or, one day you might meet a guy that will change everything,” Harry grins, “and you’ll wanna tell the whole world about him.”

                Liam smirks at the thought.

                “So,” Harry continues, “it’s your life, you don’t need to come out unless you want to. Until then, your secret’s safe with me,” he winks at Liam and the man shakes his head in amazement.

                “Harry Styles, part-time male model and part time advice columnist,” his face adorably splits into a smile.

                Harry scoffs, “Okay, wise _arse_. I flew into New York from LA early this morning, walked a show and got the life fucked out of me,” Liam giggles and Harry flashes his money making smile, “So, if we could get some sleep, that’d be wonderful.”

                “Okay, okay,” Liam agrees easily. He pauses, a slight smile laced on his lips as he stares at Harry fondly, “Goodnight, baby.”  

                With that, Liam turns around and Harry is left staring at Liam’s back. 

                The last thing Harry sees before drifting off to sleep is the back of a man he is very intrigued by.

~~~

                Harry wakes up with a rough tug on his shoulder. He blinks open his eyes and Liam’s hovering over his. He’s dressed already in sweats with a duffle bug slung on his shoulder and sheepish smile on his face. He looks cuddly in a knit beanie on his head.

                “Morning,” he speaks up, his voice low and tired. He smells like expensive aftershave and it perks Harry’s nose. Harry nods groggily.

                “What time is it?”

                “Nearing seven,” Liam tells him then coughs tightly, “Listen, normally I wouldn’t do this because it’s rude but like. I’ve got thing at eight so…”

                Harry scoffs with a smile curled on his lip and a curt nod, “Right-my cue to leave. Got it.”

                Liam groans as Harry throws the covers off his body and gets up, “Harry, god I feel awful. I hate pushing you out but-” Harry holds his hand up and laughs as he walks out of the room. Liam follows behind and catches up to Harry when they’re back downstairs.

                “Liam, honestly it’s fine,” Harry tells him as he bends down to pick up his trousers and slips into them. He shoots a smile at him as he buttons up his jeans, “Your life doesn’t revolve around me, yeah? You’ve gotta go for some reason or another and I have a date with my soaking tub and a mimosa.”

                Liam laughs, “So I come second to a bath tub and a fruity drink?”

                “Every man comes second to bubble bathes and fruity drinks,” Harry easily retorts with a dimpled grin and a wink. He finds his shirt, hanging off the couch, and plucks it up. He slides his button up and looks back at Liam. The poor bloke is frowning at him.

                “At least let me pay your cab fair.”

                Harry shakes his head as he reaches for his jacket, “Not happening,” Liam’s pout deepens and Harry chuckles at him, “It’s fine Liam. Last night was hot but it’s over. I’m a big boy,” he winks at Liam with a cocky grin, “I can handle getting home by myself, thank you very much.”

                “Fine,” Liam caves with a long groan, “But I am giving you my number.”

                Harry smiles, “Splendid.”

                Harry walks out of Liam’s condo and with one look at his surroundings, he knows he’s in Lenox Hill. Posh, Harry thinks. It’s not too far from Harry’s flat in Union Square so he for goes a cabbie and choses to walk back to his flat with the chilled morning air spurring him on.

                And if Harry has Liam’s number memorized by heart Holland Park Avenue, no one has to know.

~~~

                “Fucking toaster!” is the first thing Harry hears when he walks into his flat, “why must you be so _loud_?!”

                Harry giggles as he slips off his shoes and yells, “Eleanor! Is that you?”

                “Fuck off Styles!” she shouts back, but her roar is not quite up to snuff this morning. And Harry sees why when he strolls into the kitchen.

                Eleanor’s hair is mangled and her eyes are glazed over. She looks like a zombie as she tries to spread jam on her extremely burnt toast, her eyes staring off into no where. Harry laughs with pity at Eleanor.

                “Aw, babe,” Harry coos as he comes up beside her. He kisses her cheek and Eleanor growls weakly, “What the hell happened after I left last night?”

                “Tequila happened, that’s what,” Eleanor retorts bitterly. She presses her hand to her forehead, “And rum and cokes and shots. Too many shots.”

                Harry’s smirking as he goes for his medicine cabinet, “Did you at least get laid, hun?”

                “No,” she whines brokenly, “I think I made out with some guy? Or was it a girl? I don’t know. It must not’ve been good enough since I wounded up at your place at ass o’clock this morning, alone.” Harry shakes his head and hands her some aspirin and a bottle of water. Eleanor takes them from Harry graciously, “Sorry for crashing here. I think your doorman felt sorry for me.” But Harry shakes his head.

                “I’m just impressed you managed to get here in your boozed up state.”

                “Sod off, Styles,” Eleanor frowns at her toast, “I don’t wanna eat.”

                “Then why did you make it then?”

                “It’s too early for this,” she whines, “I wanna go back to bed.”

                Harry smiles as he pulls her into her side, “Alright love. We’ll sleep some more okay? Then I’ll make us a nice breakfast and I’ll tell you all about last night.” Despite her state, Eleanor perks up.

                “Ooooh yeah! How was Liam, hm? Best you ever had?”

                Harry chuckles as he gently pulls his friend into his room, “I’ll tell you later, dear. Right now, we need sleep.”

                Harry falls back to sleep, terribly saddened by the fact that there was a drop dead gorgeous man beside him.

~~~

                “Wait,” Eleanor breathes out before gulping down the last bit of juice in her glass, “you guys fucked on a glass table?”

                Harry smirks slyly, “Yep.”

                The on in the background and the news program is just there for white noise. Harry’s made of lovely feast of egg whites with mushrooms and spinach with a side of toast. And Eleanor, being the worst friend ever, refuses to touch any of it.

                “Wow,” Eleanor sighs, eyes ablaze, “that must have been fucking hot! Wish I was there.” Harry eyes her closely.

                “You’re not mad that we hooked up? I thought you were interested in him?” Eleanor scoffs.

                “Please Harry. I could tell Liam was staring at you at the party the entire time,” she explains and Harry’s eyes widened.

                “Really?”

                “Of course,” Eleanor shrugs, “He just looked like he wasn’t going to do anything about it. So I went up to him and we mainly talked about you. I told him how great you were and not to be shy and that you like a man who takes charge,” she grins, “so I convinced him to join us and then when you went for a smoke I practically shoved him off the couch to go follow you.”

                Harry’s face is stone like as he says, “Oh my god. You were my wing man?!” Eleanor laughs but then moans out in pain and rubs her head.

                “Yeah, I guess.” Harry grins.

                “I owe you big time Calder,” he says seriously, “name anything you want and I’ll get it for you.”

                Eleanor cocks and eyebrow at him, “It was that good, eh?”                    

                “Incredible,” he breathes out and Eleanor laughs.

                “Well then,” she shrugs simply, “All I ask is that you find me a guy that’ll fuck me just as good.”

                Harry throws his head back and chuckles but promises her, “Deal.”

                _“In sports, the New England Patriots will be in town this afternoon to face off against the Jets at MetLife Stadium for the second game of the season.”_

“Ugh,” Harry grimaces verbally at the news and smacks Eleanor’s shoulder, “Change the bloody channel! I hate American footie.”

                Eleanor groans, “I dunno where the remote is-hold on.” Harry watches the screen as it cuts to

                _“Patriot’s quarterback and celebrity Liam “Payno” Payne was seen earlier this morning arriving at the stadium for practice. Fans eagerly awaited Payne’s arrival and the quarterback was all smiles as he signed autographs and talked to fans and the press.”_

                The footage cuts to a man signing autographs on the street outside a stadium.

                Harry notices the grey knit beanie on his head first.

                “Holy shit,” he breathes out, eyes widened on the screen.

                “What?” Eleanor asks but Harry shushes her and points to the screen. After a second she mutters, “What the fuck?!”

                _“How ya feeling today Payno?”_ a man asks as he thrusts his mic in Liam’s face. That’s his Liam, Harry thinks dumbly. Liam’s looking away from the man, focusing instead on signing a few quick autographs for fans.

                But Harry notices the side of Liam’s lips twitch up on screen.

                _“I’m excellent,”_ he says in a confident, nearly cocky way. He briefly looks up and flashes a closed lip smile, but his eyes are glistening.

                Harry is dumbfounded. Liam said he was a businessman, he said nothing about being a fucking quarterback! Harry thinks back, looks back into his memories of last night to find any clue of Lia’s true identity.

                It’s then he remembers the football on the fireplace.

                Fuck.

                _“Liam, you were seen at the Gucci show last night,” the same reporter asks, “Didn’t know you liked fashion.”_

                _“Yeah, I mean-what guy doesn’t want to look good, yeah?”_ Liam retorts playfully and chuckles a bit. God, he’s a natural in the spotlight, just like Harry is. All this time Harry thought Liam was just this cute, yet insanely hot average-Joe type rich business man. But no, apparently, Liam’s is anything but average.

                He’s a damn sports celebrity.

                _“Did you have a good time?”_ the reporter asks as Liam’s bodyguard tugs at the football player’s arm and heads towards the stadium.

                He takes two steps away from the crowd before looking over his shoulder. Liam’s grin is as wide as can be.

                _“An amazing time,”_ he tells the reporter before being lead away from view.

                The news pops back on the television but Harry turns it out. He’s speechless, completely silent.

                But Eleanor is not.

                “Holy shit,” she exhales, “you got fucked by a quarterback.”

                And well, she takes the words right out his mouth.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! This part's a bit of a filler....sorry. Hope to have the other chapter posted soon. I'm also working on other projects as well. :)
> 
> Please read and enjoy!

Harry tries his best to forget everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours.

                He goes for a long run in Central Park first. The cool, midday autumn breeze hits his bare legs as he runs with Drake booming in his headphones. He notices a pap or two, taking pictures of Harry through the trees. At least they’re trying to be subtle, Harry thinks as he runs past them, and hits the pavement with each pounding step for a good hour. It works, the running, as it clears his head and the cool air filters out the negativity that’s brewing in him.

                His body is aching and his chest heaving for each pained breath by the time he's finished working out. But his arse hurts the most, bringing him back to reality and reminding him of the night’s events.

                Harry scolds himself as his mind wonders off to Liam’s dick.

                No, he can’t let himself think of Liam. That lying bastard.

                So next, Harry takes a long bubble bath. He uses his favorite bubble soap, the scent of lavender and vanilla taking over his posh white bathroom. He mindlessly makes himself a mimosa and whistles along to a Hozier song on his playlist. He shucks off his sweaty gym clothes and sinks into the piping hot water. The soft bubbles hit his chin. Harry sighs, feeling his muscles relax, and lets the steamy hot water lull him.

                Then he takes a sip of his mimosa, the fruity sweet alcoholic drink hits his tongue.

                Liam’s sentence from earlier that day rings in Harry’s ears.

                _“So I come second to a bath tub and a fruity drink?”_

                Harry spits out in his drink into the tub and pulls the plug up from the drain ten minutes into the bath.

                So needless to say, Harry’s a little upset with Liam.

                He values honesty above all else. Yeah he hooked up with Liam on a whim but he felt like he trusted him. Harry believed the lie Liam made, fell right into his deception and never even questioned it once.

                Harry hates himself for that.

                He hates himself even more a few hours later when he looks online to see what time Liam’s game is. He discovers that the game started at four and it’s almost “half time” (whatever that is) with the Patriots winning 10 to 3. Harry shakes his head and closes his laptop, refusing to give Liam anymore of his time. 

                But…come eight o’clock, Harry’s munching on kale chips angrily on his couch.

                No he thinks, Liam shouldn’t get away with such depiction.

                And Harry will be damned if he lets him get away with it.

                Before he knows it, Harry finds himself dialing a number he was given that morning. His laptop is displaying a search of “Liam New England Patriots,” and he taps on the Wikipedia page for Liam. He’s got a fucking Wikipedia page and Harry has no fucking clue who he is.

                Harry presses the green call button.

                It rings twice before the call is answered.

                “Hello?” and God-Liam’s accent sounds just as adorable over the phone.

                Harry scowls silently.

                “Liam,” he recites off the screen of his laptop, his tone flat on the phone, “Liam James Payne. Well, what a proper name that is.”

                There’s silence on the other end and then, “…Harry?”

                “Born August 29th, 1993 in Toledo, Ohio,” Harry huffs, ignoring him, “went to the University of Michigan-”

                “Harry what it this-” So Harry skips down to the good bits.

                “Payne, also known as “Payno,” is a professional quarterback in the National Football League for the New England Patriots. He’s been their star quarterback for three years.”

                Liam suddenly doesn’t seem to have anything to say.

                But Harry’s only beginning.

                “See, the Liam who took me to his place last night said he worked in business,” Harry says, voice strained, “That Liam failed to mentioned he’s some fucking quarterback.”

                Liam sighs tiredly, “So you know.”

                “Damn right I do,” Harry huffs, “You-God what is wrong with you? You looked me in the eye, flirted with me, kissed me and then fucked me all while lying through your teeth.”

                “I-It’s not,” Liam stops himself, “It wasn’t like that at all.”

                Harry rolls his eyes, “What? Didn’t think the whole, “ _I’m a quarterback,”_ would get you in my pants?”

                “I’m not that shallow Harry,” Liam defends himself softly.

                Harry retorts bitterly, “Well I wouldn’t know that, now would I?”

                “No,” Liam says, “I guess you wouldn’t.”

                Harry glares off into the distance, “Well don’t get mad at me! You knew who I was the whole time, while I have no fucking clue who I slept with last night. I slept with a liar-”

                “I didn’t lie,” Liam says lamely, “I just-wasn’t completely truthful.”

                A cold scoff leaves Harry’s lips, “You said you were a businessman.”

                “I am,” Liam replies, his tone nippy.

                Frowning, Harry scrolls through his laptop.

                “Your Wikipedia doesn’t say you own a bloody business-”

                “Wait!” Liam cuts him off, “You’re looking me up on Wikipedia?”

                Shrugging, Harry replies harshly, “I had to know who was in my arse last night and clearly, you’re not gonna tell me the truth. I have to find the truth somewhere.”

                Liam’s silent for a moment before saying, “I have a charity, fairly new. It’s in my hometown.”

                “Toledo?”

                “No,” Liam says and then, out of the blue, he scoffs fondly, “You know, baby-you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

                Despite knowing better, Harry’s cheeks flare up at the pet name.

                “I’m from Oregon, Ohio,” Liam explains.

                Harry’s confused, “Isn’t Oregon another state?”

                Liam laughs, “It is, but there’s also Oregon, Ohio. I grew up there. It’s a small-ish town, somewhere around 10 to 20 thousand people. When I made it to college football and did interviews, everyone wanted to know where I was from. It was just easier to say the closest, largest city as my hometown.”

                “Which is Toledo,” Harry finishes off.

                “Exactly,” Liam says, “No one questioned me on it, because it’s fucking Ohio! There’s only Ohio State, Cedar Point, and fucking cornfields there.”

                Harry lets a laugh betray him.

                “Plus, I went to Michigan. They hate people from Ohio,” Liam reasons, “So I didn’t bother telling anyone who didn’t need to know where I was from. Saying Toledo was enough, but I’m from Oregon, Ohio.”

                “So,” Harry says, “No one knows where you’re really from?”

                Liam confirms, “Exactly. Besides my family and my closets friends, you’re the only one who knows where I grew up Harry Styles.”

                Harry hates how that makes him feel special.

                “I’m still pissed off at you,” Harry informs Liam once again.

                “I didn’t mean to be deceitful,” Liam swears.

                Harry scoffs, “You could’ve told me the truth.”

                “Yeah but,” Liam sighs, “I was…just nice being just Liam for a night. I liked that you didn’t know who I was.”

                “Well I didn’t,” Harry retorts bitterly.

                “I know,” Liam says, “But like-you have to understand. People expect a lot from me, from people like us. People are always want me to act a certain way, to be a version of myself over who I really am. I just-didn’t want to pretend with you last night.”

                Harry blinks, “You didn’t want to pretend but you weren’t telling me the truth either.”

                “I know, I know. It’s-God. Other then not saying my job, I didn’t like to you. I wasn’t pretending around you Harry, you have to believe me. Last night when we were together-that’s the real me I promise. Please believe me.”

                Sighing deeply, Harry rubs his forehead.

                In a weird way, Harry gets it. There have been days where he wished he wasn’t so well known. It’s the times when he’s on vacation or not working at all that Harry would like peace and quiet. Instead, Harry often gets mobbed by paparazzi. He can’t go get a bloody cuppa without causing mods to form. He gets it, really does.

                But.

                “I let you fuck me, Liam,” Harry spits out lowly, his head shaking, “I took my clothes off in front of you we fucked. You then let me sleep in your bed and the whole time, I thought I could trust you enough to be a little honest with me. But now I just…I feel used, Liam.”

                “Baby-no I didn’t mean-”

                “I have no idea who was inside me last night, Liam,” Harry says, shivering a little, “I thought-you just lied to me and I didn’t even questioned you Liam, not once. You knew me but I have no fucking clue who you are.”

                Liam’s silent for a beat or two too long and then-

                “I’m sorry.”

                And the apology is so sincere, Harry frowns in surprise.

                But.

                “I don’t think that’s enough, Liam.”

                Harry forces himself to hang up his cell and places it on the coffee table next to his laptop. He sighs and wraps his arms around himself. He decides to call it a night, as he has to be up five in the morning for a shoot. He brushes his teeth, scrubs his face and moisturizes all while keeping his phone close by. Once in his room, Harry peels off his shirt and glances over to the nightstand where his phone is as he strips down completely. The device hasn’t chimed in with a text or a trill announcing a phone call.

                Harry watches his silent cell phone while tucked under his covers under his eyes grew heavier and whisk him to sleep.

                Honestly, fuck Liam Payne.

~~~

                “You’re being too harsh on him.”

                Harry rolls his eyes.

                Gina, the makeup artist on set, momentarily stops reapplying concealer on Harry’s face just to smack Harry’s shoulder.

                “Ow!” Harry hisses.

                “Stop moving,” Gina instructs tightly.

                Sighing, Harry glances over to Eleanor, who is looking down at her nails intently as crew members sprayed down with water. She’s barely dressed in a white bra and panty set with CALVIN KLEIN written boldly at the base of the bra and the top of the underwear in black. Her hair is straight and slicked back and her eyes are done up in a grey, smoking eyeshadow and black liner. El looks hot, as usual.

                Minus the eye makeup and glossed lips, Harry finds himself in a similar fashion. He’s wearing impossibly tight black boxer briefs with the infamous name written in white at around his waist. His face has foundation and concealer but no other makeup (which Harry actually doesn’t mind a bit of makeup). His hair, thought, is out on full force for this shoot-with the director’s “vision” of wanting Harry to act on the “primal instincts of his manhood,” for the spread.

                Whatever that bullshit is.

                Harry should be more excited. He should be absolutely elated! Two months ago he was informed that he and Eleanor would star in Calvin Klein’s next campaign. It’s his first Calvin campaign, and it’s with his best friend. So he gets to spend all day in a nearly naked state, lounging around on a couch with Eleanor, while making a ludicrous amount of money in the process.

                He should be over the moon.

                But of course, a stupid boy is ruining Harry’s day.

                Finally, Harry responds, “I’m not being harsh, El. He lied to me.”

                “But he’s so nice,” Eleanor positively whines like a child, “And he’s hot. And you said he gave you the best fuck of your life.”

                Harry appreciates Eleanor not saying’s Liam’s name. First off, Harry doesn’t think he can stomach hearing it. And secondly, but more importantly, there has been a history of crewmembers on shoots relying information spoken at shoots to the press. Harry recalls, in his earlier in his career when he was a cherub, fresh faced kid with baby fat still on his hips. At a shoot for Topman in the UK, the trousers they set aside for Harry were too small. It was utterly humiliating, and the stylist made snide remarks about Harry’s “love handles,” that the whole crew could hear. For the whole shoot, Harry was biting back tears

                The next day, the lovely British tabloid ran a story titled, “Harry the Hippo!” with the most unflattering pictures of Harry sweatpants leaving his flat. The story was juicy and portrayed a highly dramatized version of what happened, all thanks to crew members who saw it all unfold. The papers claimed that Harry was struggling with fame and was stress eating at McDonalds to cope.

                Turns out, Harry was still growing at seventeen. A month later, Harry went to a shoot where the trousers were too short and loose around his hips.

                Funny, that information never got leaked to the press.

                Ever since then, Harry’s been careful of what he says publically. Eleanor knows this, and thankfully respects him enough to keep conversations vague in public.

                “El,” Harry flushes, and darts his eyes away from the crew members smirking, “It wasn’t-God. It’s the principle of the matter. He lied.”

                Eleanor sighs, “But, I mean. It kinda makes sense, yeah?”

                “No it doesn’t!” Harry rolls his eyes, “It’s not fair that who knew who I was. He got to lie and be another man for the night but I couldn’t?” he shakes his head, a furrow deep on his brow, “No, it doesn’t make sense to me one bit.”

                “Stop scowling,” Gina grits out.

                When the make-up artist turns her back, Eleanor mouths ‘Bitch,’ and glares at her.

                Harry snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough.

                “I still really like him for you,” Eleanor says stubbornly a minute later, “I could see it, you two really hit it off.”

                “It was all a façade,” Harry mutters bitterly, “Li-I mean _he_ , should’ve told me.”

                “You still would have slept with him right?” Eleanor asks.

                Harry nods, “But it doesn’t matter. He-“

                “Lied, I know babe,” Eleanor pats his arm, “But I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’re both into each other, you have a good time and you two were safe. What’s the harm?”

                Harry glances up in the mirror. There’s a mic man standing close by, his head craning towards them. Harry scoffs and looks over to Eleanor from his chair.

                “I’m sick and tired of pretending,” he says, “I wasn’t-with him I was completely honest. And he-he was pretending.”

                Eleanor seems to realize what Harry means. She purses her lips, drops her gaze and ends the conversation effectively.

                Harry is eternally grateful.

                Later, Harry finds himself in the middle of an empty, white set. His face is clear of any natural blemishes, his body hosed down in a watery sheen. His briefs are comfortably tight, with his dick bulging slightly. The lights are glaring down at him as the director is going on about how Harry should recite his line to the camera. Harry nods tentatively but already has a direction of where he’s gonna go so the gesture is just for show.

                The camera turns on, Harry takes his spot on the mark taped on the ground. He stand, legs spread slightly and waits for his cue. It comes with music, a heavy guitar riff being played on the speakers above the studio, and an assistant director counting back from ten. Harry centers himself, closes his eyes to drawn out the noise.

                His mind slips to realm where honey amber eyes are everywhere. He doesn’t stop himself, though he knows he should, as he continues on to think of his sturdy hands on his body. Harry runs his hands along his chest, thinking instead of one that he touched the nights before and how hairy it felt under his fingers. A fleeting smile graces Harry’s lips when he grazes his own neck, and his thoughts drift off to the man that has a birthmark on his neck.

                “Action!”

                Harry waits a beat before opening his eyes, his gaze hooded and locked on camera one. He scales his hands down his silky chest, brushing briefly against his nipple. Harry nibbles his lip, before cracking a wide, cutesy smile before his thumb drags the band of his boxer brief down just an inch. It exposes a little bit of his right V line and perhaps a bit of his pubic hair.

                Then he speaks, his voice low and rougher then normal.

                “No one comes between me and my Calvins.”

                Harry nails it in one take, only needing to do moving pose for the rest of the commercial.

                Eleanor wolf whistles at him when he walks off the set.

~~~

                “Mum, I’m fine,” Harry states for the sixtieth time in the last twenty minutes.

                Anne, his mother, sighs loudly all the way in England, “You just sound tired babe. And I saw pictures of you running in a park yesterday. Harry you look so thin.”

                Harry fondly reminds her, “I’m a model, mum. What do you expect?”

                “My boy to be healthy!”

                “I am!” Harry insists, “I’m having pasta today for lunch.”

                “Hm,” Anne hums unconvincingly, “I need you to come back home so I can make you pot roast and potatoes.”

                Harry bites his lip, “I have a few weeks off for Christmas-”

                “No Harry, I don’t-God, don’t sound so guilty,” Anne insists worriedly, “You’re so successful and busy and you’re doing so well baby boy.”

                Harry’s wobbly lips stretch out to a smile.

                “I just miss you,” Anne says, as she always says during their phone conversations.

                “I’ll be home soon,” Harry promises her, “And expect a lot of Christmas gifts from me too!”

                “Oh, Harry, I don’t need anything-”

                “Well too bad,” Harry grins around the straw of his green juice, “You, Gemma and Robin are all gonna be showered in nice presents and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

                So yeah, Harry over compensates with nice, expensive gifts for not going home nearly as much as he should.

                Sue him.

                Anne sighs, “My sweet boy, gives so much of himself.”

                Harry’s lips twitch, “Not enough,” he mutters.

                “I’m your mum and you’re wrong,” Anne informs him matter-of-factly. Harry scoffs just as the taxi pulls to a stop.

                “Alright mum, I having lunch in Niall soon.”

                “Oh Niall!” Anne breams at the mention of Harry’s mate, “I love that lad, such a charmer.”

                Harry rolls his eyes fondly, “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

                “Will I get to talk to you soon? What about Friday?” Harry mentally checks his schedule.

                “I have meetings all morning and then some charity event that night,” Harry tells her regretfully, “But I’ll call you on Saturday, okay?”

                “You better,” Anne says, and Harry’s picturing his mum smiling, “Alright love, take care of yourself and have fun.”

                “Will do,” Harry tells her as he spots Niall waiting for him outside the café. He scoffs inwardly, as he watches Niall tip his pageboy hat at Harry. He waves at his friend and tells his mum, “I love you. Tell Robin I said hi.”

                Anne promises to do so and makes a kissy noise before hanging up. Harry pays the driver generously before stepping out of the car. It’s warm, except for a chilled breeze that sweeps over Harry. It makes him think of home, where the winds always feel like this. Talking to his mum always makes his nostalgic and longing for that small village he loves so much, away from New York and all the chaos.

                He approaches Niall with a slightly forced smile.

                Niall notices it.

                “You good?” he asks, Brooklyn accent thick. It’s funny; on the radio, Niall’s voice sounds clearer and neutral. Niall said, in college (which is much different then uni in Britain, apparently), Niall had to work one-on-one with a speech therapist to lose the accent for broadcasting. He’s a pro at it now and Niall can flip his accent on and off like a switch. It almost makes Harry want to laugh, but Niall’s azure eyes are eyeing him closely, concerned. Those eyes read Harry like a book every damn time they get together.

                Harry shrugs, pulls his collar up around his neck.

                The breeze won’t go away.

                “Ya, man,” Harry shrugs lightly, “Just-I spoke to mum.”

                Niall exhales a knowing, ‘ah’ and nods once, “That gets in you a funk.”

                Harry scoffs and shakes his head, avoid eye contact, “Come on mate, I’m starving.”

                Niall pulls Harry into his side and shakes him slightly, “Yeah, _mate_ ,” he scoffs and lowly whispers, “You can tell me all about your little rendezvous with Mr. Quarterback of the Century.”

                Harry’s not surprised he knows, damn Eleanor for having a being a bit of a gossip queen.

                However, Harry is still very much surprised.

                “He’s that good?” Harry questions. Niall blinks and scoffs.

                “You really had not fucking clue who he was, uh?” Niall pats him on his chest, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in after you fill me in on all the dirty details.”

                Harry makes a sour face, “Gross.”

                “C’mon!” Niall groans, “You tell El’s everything and I get stuff with the scraps.”

                “But you’re straight!” Harry reasons, “Didn’t think you wanted to hear two blokes fucking.”

                “So?” Niall retorts, “I hear my friends go on about banging chicks, why shouldn’t hear about my gay friends’ conquests?”

                And well, Harry doesn’t have a good response for that.

                “Conquests?” he says instead, earning a cackle from Niall.

                “And supposedly you Brits are supposed to have a better vocabulary,” he rolls his eyes and moves them towards the door, “C’mon, I’m dying for some steak and juicy details.”

                Harry makes a face, but follows Niall inside. As they walk to their table Harry quickly checks his phone again.

                Still no message from Liam.

                Harry’s not sure how to take that.

~~~

                They stop for Starbucks after lunch; Niall opts for an iced coffee while Harry sticks to a strawberry acai refresher with no sweetener.  They’re not too far from Harry’s flat (“APARTMENT!” Niall always feels the need to correct Harry), so Niall accepts Harry’s invitation to go there for the afternoon. Both are avid fans of Games of Thrones and neither had seen the episode from the night before. Harry’s excited to lounge around in his boxers for the rest of the day (Niall doesn’t care) and maybe order some Indian takeaway.

                But plans are put on hold when they turn the corner on Harry’s street.

                Harry frowns at the large white van outside his building. As he and Niall walk by, Harry notices it’s a van for a local floral shop.

 

                “What’s that about?” Niall wonders aloud.

                Harry shrugs, “Dunno.”

                The doorman smiles at Harry as he opens the door for him. Inside the lobby, the day manager Roger is having a rather intense conversation with another any man. Harry takes note that the man is wearing a shirt with the same business logo for the floral truck outside.

                Roger picks up the phone at his desk just as Harry walks by. The aged man puts on a smile, one of relief.

                “Ah, Mr. Styles. I was just about to call you.”

                At that, the man other man looks at Harry. From this distance of five feet of away, Harry can smell the scent of roses from his shirt mixed with sweat. He frowns at Harry, wrinkles deep into his skin.

                “You’re Harry?” he bites out, New York accent thick.

                “Um,” Harry says unsurely, “Yes.”

                At that, the man huffs, “About damn time. We’ve been waiting for almost an hour and I have six other deliveries to make before five,” Harry’s eyes bulge with confusion as the man pulls out a walkie-talkie and speaks into it, ‘’K boys, bring them in.” And walks out the front door.

                Niall asks Roger, “What the Hell’s going on?”

                The manager turns to Harry and explains, “Mr. Styles, someone ordered flowers for you.”

                “Okay?” Harry questions because he doesn’t understand. He receives flowers from time to time, whether from magazines or fashion houses. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the flowers came from Gucci’s CEO as a thanks for saving their show on Saturday. Roger knows the protocol, sign for the flowers and takes them to Harry’s apartment.

                Roger shakes his head, “It’s a…rather large order of flowers, Mr. Styles. And that man, he’s the owner of the flower shop, was instructed to make sure you were here to receive to flowers. It seems like the sender was adamant on making sure you got the flowers, Sir.”

                Just then, three guys parade into the building, each holding vases of different flowers.

                “Lead the way,” the flower shop owner tells Roger.

                Harry and Niall follow behind.

                Once all squeezed into the elevator, Niall asks.

                “How many flowers were ordered?”

                The owner scoffs, “Half the fucking semi.”

                Harry’s stomach drops as the elevator moves up.

~~~

                Thirty-two.

                There are thirty-two vases of fresh flowers in Harry’s apartment. Every open space has a glass vase, bursting with every colorful flower imaginable. Roses, daisies, lilies, sunflowers, lavenders, tulips, and daffodils dwell on Harry’s countertops, coffee and end tables. It smells heavenly, like the sweetest flora scent Harry’s ever smelled.

                But still.

                Thirty-two vases with flowers that have cards on them.

                Harry can’t bring himself to read them.

                “Liam’s pulling out the big guns.”

                Harry takes his eyes off the vase holding red calla lilies and glares down his friend, “How’d you know they’re from Liam?”

                Niall scoffs, “Oh please Harry! Who else would send you damn meadow?”

                And well, Harry can’t think of anyone what would do such a thing.

                “I’m gonna go,” Niall says, and chuckles on his next breath, “You’ve got some shit to sort out man. Just call the guy and thank him for the flowers.”

                “You can’t leave me!” Harry yells, but he’s only met with Niall flicking him off as she strolls towards the door. Harry winces as Niall slams the door shut, trapping Harry in.

                Slowly, timidly, Harry begins looking at each bouquet more closely. He’s always been fond of tulips and finds himself walking towards a vase full of pink tulips on his countertop. Harry smirks as his fingers glide over the flowers, the petals feel like silk. His hand stops when he feels the rough edge of the car sticking out. Without over thinking, Harry plucks from the bouquet and turns it over.

                _‘Your cologne is still on my sheets.’_

Harry gasps quietly, his heart pulsing in his ears.

                He moves to the next vase, one on his dining table holding white daisies.

                _‘You stole my boxers (keep ‘em)’_

                Harry giggles stupidly at that. He noticed he kept the boxers by mistake, but Harry was pretty adamant to try not to think of Liam throughout the day, let alone text him to tell him he still had his boxers. Harry has been failing at ignoring Liam terribly all day, much to his chagrin, and Liam just made it damn near impossible for Harry to ignore him.

                Suddenly, Harry desires to see what each card says.

                _‘Your hair is so soft.’_

_‘You snore when you sleep (it’s soooo cute!)’_

_‘I can’t get over the fact you walked the runway of a Gucci show CAMANDO!!!’_

_‘You’re a fucking great kisser btw. REALLY good kisser ;)’_

_‘You have the prettiest eyes.’_

_‘I’m sorry I’m a fucking asshole cunt_ L’

                Harry chuckles at the last one, shakes his head and tucks the card in with the rest of them. All the notes were like that; sweet little compliments that made Harry’s stomach squirm happily. He felt foolishly giddy with a stupid grin on his face as he looked around at the flowers. And then there’s just one last bouquet with a card sticking out. It’s the red calla lilies that caught Harry’s eye earlier, perched on the windowsill with the sun poking through behind the sheer curtains.

                He approaches the flowers and takes the card. Harry’s stunned by the earnest tone of the note, and rereads it several times.

                _‘You are, by fair, the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Please know that.’_

                Harry is speechless. Sure, he gets told all the time how handsome he is, ad it’s certainly nothing new to him. But yet, seeing Liam declare it on a card does something to him. His heart billows like flourishing flowers in full bloom. Harry can feel his cheeks are heated, and the stupid grin on his lips has only grown substantially.

                Without thinking, Harry pulls out his cell and snaps a picture of the arrangement in the window. He doesn’t post much on social media, opting out instead to keep his personal life as much out of the public eye as possible. But on a whim, Harry finds himself going through filters on Instagram and captioning the photo with lyrics from a song he hasn’t listened to in ages.

                _‘Flowers in the window…such a lovely day_ ;) _’_

In an instant, his phone is beeping with notifications of comments and hearts on his photo. Harry sighs at it, and looks away with it reaches a thousand likes in in less then five minutes. It freaks him out sometimes, that he has so many fans and admirers. Harry likes attention now and again, but it gets to be too much at times. He wonders if Liam will see the picture, if he would be bold enough to like it or comment on it. Harry knows he won’t, but he can’t help but think of such things.

                He knows he should really call Liam and thank him for the lovely flowers, but Harry’s hesitant still. The incredibly kind gesture doesn’t change anything, not really. Harry still is a little angry at Liam for lying to him. If anything, Harry is just more confused then ever before. His animosity is breaking, but Harry is stubborn as Hell and there’s a nagging part of him that insists on not caving in too soon.

                Harry decides on late afternoon yoga to meditate and clear his mind.

                Two hours later, Harry has a thin sheen of sweat on from his workout. His muscles are loose and relaxed, but his mind isn’t as clear as he wish it would be. Huffing in frustration, Harry strips out of his workout gear and steps into a piping out, steamy shower. While under the spout, Harry thinks of Liam still, particularly the hard lines of his abs and firmness of his arms. Harry swallows thickly, helplessly picturing Liam with him in his shower, touching his body with soap and kissing his neck from behind.

                Harry promptly scolds himself inward and outwardly by turning the dial I his shower to the coldest setting.

                It’s only later on when the tofu tacos for dinner are settled in Harry’s stomach that his phone rings on the coffee table. He mutes his TV, right in the middle of The Notebook, and reaches for his phone. He pauses when he sees the familiar number on the screen, one that he couldn’t save in his phone. Harry fixes the large sweater and runs his hands in his hair, feeling silly for acting in such a way when Liam cannot see him.

                Harry’s sure to answer the phone causally, “Hello?”

                “ _Red calla lilies_ ,” Liam’s voice greets him. Harry smirks knowingly, “ _symbolize the essence of desire, strength and passionate love_.”

                Harry rolls his eyes, “What’s this about?”

                “You’re not the only one knows how to use Google, Harry Edward,” Liam playfully remarks. God, Harry’s picturing him with a smirk and it’s too much for him to handle, “You know, I pegged you more of a roses kind of man.”

                Harry shrugs, because yes he loves roses. But Liam can figure that out on his own one day. For now, he plays coy, “I’m full of surprises.”

                “Clearly,” Liam replies fondly.

                “Hey, you know my middle name?!” Harry finally realizes.

                “Um,” Liam says but it’s drawn out longer then it should be.

                “You little snooping bastard,” Harry says scandalized, despite the grin on his lips, “Stalking my Instagram and Wikipedia?”

                “Hey, I didn’t give you this much flack when you were checking out my Wikipedia page!” Liam cries out.

                Harry scoffs, “Well I wouldn’t have had to do that if you hadn’t fucking lied to me about who you were.” Harry’s surprised that there’s no malice in his voice.

                But Liam responds swiftly, again stating, “I’m sorry.”

                “You should be.”

                “I…wasn’t thinking,” Liam replies lamely once more.

                To which Harry responds, “That much is clear.” Liam chuckles.

                “I can hang up if you like,” Liam offers, “Ya know, if you’re still pissed off. I don’t mind, I just. I saw your post about the flowers and I um. Just wanted to make sure you liked them.”

                Harry finds himself smirking, “I did,” he confesses, his voice softer then it should be. He can’t help it, damn Liam Payne and his ability to fuck Harry up. “I liked them a lot, Liam. Thank you.”

                “Least I could do for being a lying asshole,” Liam comments, almost bitterly.

                Harry frowns slightly, “Yeah…” Liam coughs.

                “I’m glad you liked them Harry. I did something right by you,” he comments. It sounds like a good ending, Harry thinks. He could easily tell Liam goodbye and call it a night. But something is tugging at Harry; some part of him doesn’t want the conversation to end.

                “Well,” Harry sighs, a smirk drawn up on his lips, “I wouldn’t say that the flowers were the only good thing you’ve done for me.”

                Liam chuckles at Harry’s coy voice, “Yeah?”

                “Hmm,” Harry hums, his cheeks stupidly flaring up.

                Liam teases him, “And what exactly was the other good thing I didn’t for you, Harry Edward?”

                “Ugh,” Harry rolls his eyes, “I hate the fact you know my middle name. It’s just wrong.”

                Liam sounds like he’s smirking on the other end of the call, “Funny how you avoided the question there.”

                “My mum taught me never to talk about…scandalous activities, Mr. Payne,” Harry replies.

                “You weren’t so shy on Saturday, baby,” Liam notes playfully.

                The pet name sends Harry in a mild frenzy. Suddenly, Harry’s back on the glass coffee table in Liam’s place.

                “You suck,” Harry adjusts himself on his couch. His slightly stiffened dick chafes against the seam of his jogger shorts.

                Liam laugh, clearly enjoying himself, “I’m just making an observation,” just then, a ding pops up on Liam’s end of the line.

                “What was that?” there’s noise on Liam’s end that Harry can’t decipher

                Liam replies, “My dinner’s ready.” Harry checks the grandfather clock on his fireplace.

                “It’s so late.” Harry comments.

                “Yeah well,” Liam says casually, “You can thank my teammate Louis for mouthing off to one of the assistant coaches at practice today. All the coaches made us stay later to run extra drills and then made us run up and down the stadium stairs like fifty times.”

                “Jesus,” Harry sighs.

                “Yep.”

                “Hope that Louis lad learned his fucking lesson.”

                Liam laughs, “Louis? He never learns shit. Most of the offense on the team hates him. But damn, he’s one of the best wide receivers in the league. He really is a good guy, just a bit too bold.”

                Harry grimaces as Liam chews his food. He realizes then that he truly has not fucking idea about anything Liam’s been talking about. Sure, Harry’s seen an American football field. He’s gone to concerts at a few stadiums in the states. But he’s never seen five minutes of an America football game. Harry thinks he should really look up the rules of football.

                “Louis,” Harry says, breaking the silence, “That’s your friend that smokes yeah?”

                “Yep,” Liam confirms, “He follows the diet and workout plans to a T, but the coaches are really on him about the smoking. He knows it’s bad, but he smokes to take the edge off-just like you.”

                Harry wistfully smiles at the memory of that roof top. He was so naïve, so innocent before Liam Payne came along.

                Harry snorts at himself.

                “What’s so funny?”

                “Just remembered a joke,” Harry lies easily enough. Thankfully, Harry has a treasure trove of stellar jokes up his sleeve.

                Liam seems enticed, “Go on then.”

                “Why was the man at the calendar factory fired?” Harry asks.

                “I dunno, why?” Harry barely contains his giggle.

                “Because he took a few days off!”

                Liam is silent for a beat or two on the phone. Then he flatly states, “Harry Edward.”

                Harry replies, his cheeks still hurting from his smile, “Liam James.”

                “Baby, that was…terrible.” Harry gasps.

                “You take that back, mister!”

                Liam replies, “I can’t! It’s true.”

                “Well,” Harry huffs, “You can kiss my sweet arse goodbye.”

                “My, my, imagine if your mum heard you talking like this.”

                Harry grimaces, “God it sounds weird when you Americans say ‘mum.’ Your accents are dreadful.”

                “Excuse you, Harry Edward! I’m not the one with an accent.”

                “Everyone has accents!”

                “Bullshit!” Liam replies and then quickly adds, “You have the best accent ever. I love hearing you talk.”

                Harry feels foolish for blushing madly, “Even if I say ‘terrible’ jokes?”

                “I guess,” Liam drones reluctantly.

                They talk for another half hour, and Liam never once tries to pressure Harry into giving him another chance. Sure, Harry’s completely grateful for this, that Liam’s respecting his boundaries. At the same time, Harry is dying to know what is going on in Liam’s mind.

                Harry’s still thinking about Liam hours later when he’s in bed. The call had ended when Harry failed to stifle a yawn, and Liam insisted he go to bed. It’s sweet, that Lia seems to care about Harry, but he also just wanted to stay up talking more with Liam. But Liam was tired too, Harry knew this, after a day of training. But still, Harry found himself enjoying just talking to Liam about his day. Harry could feel himself hating Liam less and less each time Liam had laughed on the phone. He hated himself for admitting that Liam doesn’t seem to be terrible.

                Liam’s easy to look at, Harry thinks while he’s naked in bed. He’s laptop is settled on his lower abdomen and somehow, Harry typed in ‘Liam Payne shirtless’ into Google. Now, Harry is being blessed with thousands of pictures of Liam and all his muscular glory. Harry has to physically restrain himself from touching his laptop screen but God damn.

                He found a treasure trove of what looks like is a photoshoot of Liam. It’s cliché to say the least, putting Liam on some football field and then a gym in other pics. But Harry thanks Liam’s trainers, the camera and Liam himself for looking so gorgeous and fit as Hell. Harry bites his lip as he looks at Liam’s buff arms and wonders how effortlessly Liam could hold him up against a wall to fuck him. He wants Liam to carry him around the whole city and never put him down. Harry wants to lick Liam’s abs, all six of them, until his tongue turns to a desert.

                Harry hums with a lazy smile drawn on his lips and his cock hard against his sheets. He moves the laptop down, pulls back the covers and lock his eyes on Liam’s golden brown eyes as he slides the foreskin down. He sighs happily as he begins to jerk in a steady rhythm, but it’s not the same.

                He wishes Liam’s large hand was doing this for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I hoped you liked it. Hope to have the next chapter up soonish.  
> *PLEASE LEAVE NICE COMMENTS AND KUDOS! THANK YOU!*   
> My Tumblr is teatimetommo! I post about my writings on there all the time.   
> Take care! :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! I'm happy to be posting this update to L&L! This chapter has everything, SMUT!!! a little flashback to Harry's past (IT'S IN ITALIC right at the start of the chapter!), anddddd a teeny-tiny bit of Elounor too, cause why not! Liek I said, there's some smut towards the end of the chapter and I updated the tags as well.  
> Please read and enjoy! :)

_Harry has never really been into any sport. As a kid, he, like any other young lad growing up in England, played proper football for some time. Harry would much rather stay at home and read his mum’s fashion magazines and ogle over the pretty women (and if Harry was being honest with his eight year old self, he mainly looked at those mags for an off chance of seeing hot shirtless blocks) in high end, expensive clothes._

_But still, every dad in the UK pushes football on their young sons in hopes of having fathered the next David fucking Beckham. Harry endured football for three years, spent most of his week nights practicing his kicks in the garden with his dad, and played in every game on Saturday morning, rain or shine. Harry was hardly coordinated back then, with his gangly growing limbs and his slender tall frame made him look like a giraffe in trainers. Bruises, cuts and grass stains became a very regular part of Harry’s life._

_It all came to an end when Harry was nine. His community team with against a team from Leeds. Leeds is a city that’s always been a little rougher on the edges, and Harry vaguely remembers nervously gulping when he saw the team of lads approach the pitch. They were all at least half a foot taller then Harry, and though they were only ten at the time, Harry was blown away to see some sort o muscles on their scrawny bodies. All looked to have the rage of a caged-in bull newly freed and on a ravenous rampage._

_Needless to say, Harry didn’t stand a chance._

_He tried; he tried so fucking hard to keep up with the Leeds team and avoid shoves. But Harry waddled off the pitch in the second half after some Leeds player slid right into Harry’s knee.  Harry went down right away, that pain coupled with a few other shoves he endured, was fucking too much. Harry couldn’t help the tears, and he heard both the Leeds and his damn own team mocking him. Thankfully, his mum ran up to the field, and cradled her son’s head into her chest as the cussed out the ref for letting that happened. She got the kid that injured Harry to be kicked out for the game, but Harry didn’t fucking care. He just wanted to go home, have a good cry in the bath, and read the latest issue of Vogue with a cuppa._

_His dad wouldn’t let that happened._

_‘What the fuck, Harry?!’ Harry can still recall the ugly tone in his dad’s voice after all these years. ‘You know how fucking embarrassing that is, Harry? I taught you better then to cry on the pitch!’_

_‘Desmund!’ Harry’s mum spat out at her husband. Harry just sat on the table with his leg propped up on the other chair and blankly stared at the wooden groves on the table, wishing this would all stop._

_His dad wouldn’t let it go though, ‘I’m trying to raise a man, Anne! A young man that doesn’t need his fucking mum fixing his problems and coddling him all the damn time. You seem to be okay with our son being a fucking pansy, but I’m not!’_

_Harry jolted when he heard his mum’s hand strike his dad’s cheek._

_‘Get out.’ New tears formed in Harry’s eyes. This couldn’t have been happening._

_‘A-Anne-”_

_‘You will not talk about my child like that,’ Anne practically hissed at her husband, ‘My boy is hurt, and you’re only making it worse. And I-I can’t even look at you right now, Des. So get the fuck out of my house or I’ll call the police, and then you’ll be really embarrassed.’_

_Harry had his eyes closed, his body trembling and his lips holding back broken sobs. He heard his dad stomp down the hall and raucously slamming dresser drawers in his parents’ room. The heavy front door echoed loudly in the house some minutes later and Harry melted into sobs. His mum must have hated him, Harry hated himself in that moment. But Anne was instantly at his side, pulling him into his arms and kissing his head._

_‘I love everything about you, Harry,’ his mum told him and Harry only broke down harder because his mum was crying now too. She picked her son’s head up and made him look at her. Her thumbs wiped away Harry’s tears as her own were falling freely. Her glossy, red stained eyes still held a fierceness to them that left Harry in awe._

_‘You are my sweet boy,’ Anne said, ‘You have a pure heart of gold, and don’t let anyone try to change you, Harry. You read your magazines, try on your sister’s clothes, steal my high heals and makeup-’_

_‘M-Mum,’ Harry whimpered, because she wasn’t supposed to know all that. He did all that so secretly, only when his family wasn’t in sight. He was always so sure no one else saw him or knew he did that stuff._

_But Anne smiled slightly, and brushed back his hair out of her son’s eyes, ‘Just don’t change one bit for anyone, not even for your dad.’_

_Harry breathed in relief and curled himself into his mum’s chest._

_The next day, Anne took him out of football and bought Harry three more magazines just for him._

_The next week, Anne filed divorce papers, insisted to Harry and Gemma that they had many issues and problems for years, things they kept hidden from their kids. Harry knew Gemma partially blamed him and Harry blamed himself for a long time. But Anne insisted that this was best for everyone, and that there was a new, better life for everyone._

_And, of course, Harry’s mum was right._

~~~

                So yeah, Harry hates sports, and with good reason.

                Yet here he is on a Thursday night earnestly trying to understand American football.

                There’s a little frown on his lips, because Liam’s not currently playing and therefore, he’s not on the TV. Supposedly, American football can be played on several different days. Liam had explain to Harry that most games o played on Sunday afternoons/nights, but games can also be played Monday or Thursday nights. And that just doesn’t sound right to Harry. It’s confusing, for starters, and seems rather unorganized.

                But tonight, Liam’s team (the Patriots) is up against the Miami Dolphins. Liam’s currently there, in Miami, and Harry told Liam the night before that he’s impossibly jealous.

                _(‘New York is so bloody cold!’ Harry complained on his cell to Liam. He was bundled up on his couch with a cashmere blanket and a hot cup of his favorite tea._

_Liam hummed mockingly, ‘It’s soooo bloody hot in Miami, babes.’_

_‘Again,’ Harry retorted, ‘You Americans need to stay away from British slang.’_

_Liam’s laughter rang in Harry’s ear, ‘I wish I was there to keep you warm.’_

_And Harry found himself grinning from ear to ear.)_

The Dolphins, Harry still scoffs at the name, manage to somehow gain six points by going into what Harry vaguely knows as the ‘end zone’ with the ball. And the camera goes to the Patriot’s bench and Harry sits up on his couch. The large screen shows Liam scowling, his eyebrows bunching towards the center of Liam’s brow. He looks so serious, and Harry just wanted to reach out and give him a shoulder rub.

                But the screen jumps back to the field where some guy on the Dolphins kicks the football between two post thingies and now they’re up another point. The crowd at the stadium is still going wild for the home team.  The score is tied at 28-28 with only less then five minutes of the game. Harry might not have a fucking clue what’s going on, but he still finds his heart beating a little faster in anticipation, wanting to badly for Liam’s team to win.

                Speaking of Liam, after a short commercial break, the game comes back on to show Liam pulling on his helmet. Harry has to admit, he does love the American football uniform, especially on Liam. The shoulder pads make him intimidating, but in a sexy way. The tight jersey in navy blue and silver looks fantastic on Liam, highlighting his slender waist deliciously. But the best part of it all is those damn spandex pants that leave little to the imagination. Liam’s ass looks firm in the tight, silver material, and Harry nearly purrs as Liam trots up the field.

                The formation and placement on the field is still confusing to Harry, but the commentator on TV says that the Patriots are starting at the sixty-five yard line. Liam takes his position and the other men on his team line up in a weird formation. Liam crouches down behind another guy and waits for the ball to be ‘hiked’ to him. Harry’s seen this done about a dozen or so time sin the game but each time he sees this, Harry still gets a ping of jealousy in his chest. He doesn’t like that Liam’s hands are so close to another man’s ass. It just wasn’t right at all; Liam should be touching Harry’s bum and no one else’s.

                The football is in Liam’s hands and he backs away as the pack in breaks a part. Harry waits for Liam to make a move, watching Liam scan the field. Liam finally draws his arm back and Harry stops breathing as the quarterback throws the ball high in the air, going far and moving fast. Both Patriots and Dolphins are trying to predict where the ball will land exactly. Eventually, the ball falls right into Patriot’s number 17, and the commenters explain that this was a 32-yard gain.

                The clock is ticking down as the Patriots line up once more. Harry watches as Liam seems to yell out last minute demands at his teammates before he squats down slightly, waiting for the football to be placed in his hands. Then the pack disperses, Liam moves back with the ball in his hands with thirty-seconds left to play. He moves his head, looking for a teammate to pass the ball to, but Harry gasps as men from the Dolphins crowd Liam’s space.

                A second before Liam’s tackled to the ground, the quarterback throws the ball.

                The football falls precisely into the hands of #28 Tomlinson, who’s in the end zone.

                Harry lets out a loud cheer that echoes throughout his empty apartment.

                It’s adorable, watching Tomlinson, or Louis rather, spike the ball into the ground and jump around like a child. Tomlinson spots the camera on field and grabs the sides of it. Harry laughs as Louis cheers in the camera. Just then, Louis’ then is pulled back by Liam. The two men shove each other and scream in their faces as the rest of their team joins them on the field.

                The Patriots win, 34-28.

                It’s late, nearing eleven at night, and Harry has a plane to catch for London the next morning for his few shows at London Fashion Week. The flight’s at nine, but he has to be at JFK by seven, so Harry’s got his alarm clock set for five. Harry knows Liam will be busy post-game, with interviews and cool downs. So Harry decides to send a short congratulatory text to Liam before turning off the TV and calling it a night.

~~~

                Harry’s sitting in the private terminal with a couple of security guards when his phone rings. He takes a quick sip of his coffee as he pulls of his cell. Harry smiles down at the screen and feels giddy as he answers.

                “Hiya champ,” Harry greets answers the call. He glances up at the security guard, who is quite old and grumpy looking in Harry’s opinion. His smile drops under the man’s scowl and Harry gets up and walks towards the window.

                Liam’s loud yawn morphs into a soft chuckle, “Hey baby.”

                Harry stomach still flutters at the pet name, but he blames it mainly on Liam’s raspy morning voice.

                “Congrats on the big win last night.”

                “Thanks,” Liam breathes out, “Did you watch it?”

                Harry decides to go for casual, “I might have caught the end.”

                “That was the best part! Always can depend on Tommo.” Harry smirks at Liam’s enthusiasm.

                “I still don’t have a bloody clue what’s going on half the time,” he confesses.

                Liam tuts, “I’ll have to teach you.”

                Feeling a bit bold, Harry then decides a little pre-flight Friday morning flirt with Liam sounds lovely.

                “Hm,” he hums playfully, “Yes, please teach me. I’m a very good student, I promise.”

                He knows the scrooge of the security guard is probably utterly disgusted, but Harry doesn’t give a damn about him. It’s only about Liam. Harry’s betting his money that Liam will moan slightly, and then the phone call will shift into PG-13 territory.

                Only, that doesn’t happen.

                “Um,” Liam says, awkwardly. Harry’s smirk drops, “I, uh. Need to go for a run.”

                Harry frowns at the abruptness, “But you just had a late game yesterday.”

                “Sorry,” Liam apologizes quickly, “But my trainer’s got me on a tight schedule.”

                Funny, Harry thinks. They’ve had a few conversations over the phone like this, and Harry knows Liam wouldn’t call him if he didn’t have at least a half hour to talk. It’s barely been five minutes, and it sounded as though before Liam had all the time in the world. But then Harry had to open his big ole mouth and flirt with Liam. Now he’s retracted like a turtle cowering in his shell.  

                “Oh,” Harry breathes out.

                “Yeah,” Liam says, sounding a bit regretful. It helps Harry’s shrinking dignity a little bit, “Have a safe flight, and don’t buy anything from Sky-Mall.”

                Harry whines a little, “But I wanted buy you a present from Sky-Mall-”

                “Nooooooo,” Liam drones.

                “How about a footbath with a built in speaker? A toaster that toasts animals on the bread? Oh, maybe a glow in the dark toilet seat?”

                “God,” Liam says, “Are those things actually stuff you can buy in Sky-Mall?”

                Harry shrugs, “Yes. I fly a lot and never seem to pack enough things to read.”

                “Oh Harry Edward,” Liam sighs. Harry’s smile drops slightly.

                “I shouldn’t keep you on, since you have to go for a run and all,” he says in his infamous passive aggressive tone that used to get him in loads of trouble as a kid.

                Liam replies, sounding rather stiff and surprised, “Oh yeah, right.”

                “My flight’s boarding soon anyway,” Harry explains lamely.

                “Have a safe flight,” Liam says again, “Text me once you’ve landed.”

                “It’ll be late,” Harry tells him.

                Liam simply states, “I don’t care. Just do it please.”

                Though Harry is terribly confused and kinda mad at Liam for being a bit standoffish, that still makes Harry bite his lip as his smiles.

                “Okay, I will.” Harry promises with a soft smile, “Talk to you soon, Li.”

                Liam says a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone.

                Harry doesn’t have time to dwell on the disappointment blooming inside his chest.

                He’s got a flight to catch, and a hectic few days in London ahead of him

                There’s not time to sulk over silly boys.

~~~

                “You like him!” Eleanor squeals happily.

                Harry scoffs as some aid fluffs the collar of the classic Burberry trench coat. Harry takes a moment amongst all the chaos the pre-runway show to check his reflection. Gucci has Harry’s heart and soul, but there’s a soft spot for Burberry. Everything is so chic and timeless, especially the beige trench coat Harry has on. The back of the collar has the infamous Burberry checkered pattern with black, white and maroon lines. Underneath, there’s a simple navy blue polo with khaki slacks and dark brown loafers.

                It’s simply British, and Harry loves the whole look.  

                “Aw H!” Eleanor’s voice brings him back. She coos and playfully pinches his cheek. “You’re blushing!”

                “It’s hot back here,” Harry retorts, pulling his face away.

                “Sure,” Eleanor rolls her eyes, “Stop denying your crush, H. Embrace it!”

                Harry frowns slightly as Eduardo, a hair stylist, brushes back Harry’s front fringe and sprays it in place.

                “I have,” he mutters barely, half hoping Eleanor wouldn’t hear. It’s the first time he’s finally allowing himself to admit it aloud.

                But of course, Eleanor heard this.

                “Yes!” She cheers, and gets a stern look from the make-up artist applying her lipstick. She settles back in her chair and beams, “So when are you gonna tell him?”

                Harry sighs, “I dunno if I will.”

                “But you have to!” Eleanor positively whines, “You two are so cute together!”

                Harry plays with a button on his coat and mumbles, “I think he’s lost interest.”

                “What?” Eleanor exclaims. Harry shrugs.

                “Li-he just,” Harry shrugs slightly, “I dunno. Yesterday I tried flirting a bit on the phone with him and he made up an excuse to get off the phone with me.”

                Eleanor hums, confused, “Maybe he didn’t realize you were flirting?”

                At that, Harry scoffs, “Babe, you’ve seen me flirt in person,” he shakes his head, “Every man knows when Harry Styles is flirting with him.”

                “That’s true, yeah,” Eleanor barks out a laugh. After a second, she asks, “So that’s it? You’re gonna give up on quite possibly the hottest man ever?”

                Harry shrugs limply, recalling that yes, Liam’s been put on several hottest male celebs list. That just makes this all worse.

                Eleanor frowns, almost scolding, “H-”

                But then they’re being pulled towards the runway, along with hordes of other models.

                Yet again, duty calls. Harry shakes his pout off his face gets into the zone.

~~~

                It’s not until several hours later after the Tommy Hilfiger show and the backstage after show pictures are done that Eleanor catches up with him.

                “You need to go after your man,” she demands. God, it’s like Harry’s a child once more and his mum is yelling at him for climbing the tree in their garden.

                Harry blinks, “It’s pointless, Els.”

                “A week ago, he gave you a fucking field of flowers, H!” She points out as she strips off her blouse. Harry glances down at her bare breasts (yes he’s gay, but who doesn’t appreciate a good rack?) and undoes his belt. Eleanor and him have been in too many shows to worry about modesty. She’s the only women outside his family that has seen Harry completely nude several times. Hell, except for one man Harry dated for three weeks when he was eighteen, no man has seen Harry naked as much as Eleanor has.

                Much to Harry’s dismay.

                Point is, both models are perhaps too comfortable being around each other’s naked bodies.

                “He likes you,” Eleanor huff and points her stiletto heel at him, “I know he does! Don’t give up just yet.”

                Harry sights in relief when the tight slacks are dropped to the ground, freeing him completely. Harry’s liked Tommy Hilfiger, as the clothes are basically themed around young, rich sailors in the Hamptons. Harry digs the looks, but for some reason, the trousers on his final look were too tight. An aid said it was ‘supposed to be snitched at the waist,’ but Harry doesn’t buy that.

                “Els,” he finally says, “You and I both know, that if a man likes you, he will go out and make you his. There’s not question when a man likes someone, he wouldn’t beat around the bush.”

                Eleanor nods reluctantly.

                “Yes he gave me flowers, a whole sole of them, but what has he done since? Sure we talk and text all throughout the day, but I just-there are mixed signals El. I just don’t have time for this, I barely have time to see my own family. I don’t have time to worry about stupid boys that can’t make up their mind if they’re interested or not.”

                Harry takes a breath, because he sure needs it. It just, Liam’s such a great guy. He’s stunning, of course, but Harry’s discovered that there’s so much more to Liam. He’s funny, and sweet and sexy as Hell-everything that Harry wanted in a man. So it stings a lot that he’s missing out on the guy of his dreams. He hates himself for the tears welling up in his eyes, but he blames it on the crazy jet-lag and the mad schedule of fashion weeks. He’s stupidly happy that he decided not to walk any of the shows in Milan’s Fashion Week, because he’s gonna get a few days off once he gets back to New York.

                And damn, he really needs those days off.

                Thankfully, both models are quick at getting dressed because within a minute of those tears forming, Harry is in Eleanor’s chest, her arms wrapped around him tightly. He’s grateful for her hugs but it only marginally helps.

                “Boys are stupid,” Eleanor huffs.

                Harry laughs, but yeah he has to agree.

                Boys are pretty fucking stupid.

~~~

                Overall LFW, wasn’t too bad. Harry walked ten shows, caught up with Gemma for a quick (like super cute) brunch and Harry treated himself to a massage before his flight back to New York. He wishes he could’ve seen his mum too, but she had planned a girls trip that same weekend. Anne had apologized for planning the trip during LFW, but Harry insisted its okay. It’s been a hard year on his mum, and she deserves a holiday.

                Seeing Gemma is always a little tense. Harry adores his sister, and is stupidly proud of her achievements. She’s a successful writer, and she’s finally found a decent guy who’s worthy of her. But she is rather blunt with Harry, which can be good or bad depending on her mood.

                _(‘You need to come home more often.’_

_‘I know, Gems.’_

_‘Mum misses you like crazy, and I’m bloody tired of hearing her cry over not seeing her own son. It’s not far, for either of us.’_

_‘I know, Gems.’_

_‘Just, get your arse back home more often, okay?’_

_‘K.’_ )

                Needless to say, Harry was really grateful for that massage.

                But his brunch date with Gemma unearthed farther feelings of doubt within himself. It’s bad enough that Liam finds Harry unworthy of his affections, but he feels like utter shit knowing his mum is back home crying over him.

                Harry can’t seem to please anyone in his personal life, but it’s the opposite in his professional life. He’s the hottest male model at the moment, and with that comes several gigs-more then he can count ad keep track of. He’s got a good team. His manager, Stacy, is nice but only really talks to him once a week about what his week entails. Harry also has personal security, but rarely uses them outside of going to and from events. And then there’s Aiden, Harry’s personal assistant that Harry refuses to use. He can keep his life in order, and he doesn’t want to become that celebrity that needs ten people bust to survive.

                No, Harry can do this. He became a model on his own talents. He can juggle his own crazy schedule. He can fit in more time for his friends and family. And if there’s any room left, Harry might be able to find a new prince charming that won’t be a silly quarterback.

                For now, Harry needs to push Liam out of his mind yet again.

                He’s got a magazine cover to shoot, with a centerfold for Vogue herself.

                Harry loves the idea of the December cover; a magical winter wonderland full of fluffy fake snow, fairy lights, and couture, androgynous fashions. Harry’s excited, it’s a dream come true for him. The creative director told Harry that he would look like a modern day, hot Jack Frost, and Harry is all game.

                Wearing a ruffled white blouse with a silver silk and blue velvet dramatic skirt and an embroidered, long shawl, Harry’s completely in his element. The set is covered in fake trees, lit with rose gold lights. Fake snow blows in Harry’s face, and the wind brushes his long, loose curls over his face. Harry strikes a pose, his fingers curled around the nearest branches and his chin tiled upward with his eyes locked on the camera. He can feel it, knows it’s the perfect pose.

                “YES! YES! That’s it baby!” Jane, the photographer, praises him too.

                Harry smirks slightly, cockily. It’s the first time in days he’s felt confident.

                Who needs boys when there’s Vogue?

~~~       

                Hours later, when the make-up has been peeled off of Harry’s face and the hairspray washed and combed out of his hair, a sushi date with Eleanor sounds like a perfect night cap.

                “It just,” Harry sighs excitedly as he wipes the soy sauce from his lips, “Today, was such a good fucking shoot! I could feel it, Els! I looked hot as Hell-”

                “Of course you did, babe,” Eleanor agrees casually and shrugs, “You always do.”

                Harry smirks, “Thanks, El. But what until you see the pictures of me naked only wearing a faux mink shawl over my shoulders and a pair of thigh high boots.”

                “Damn!” Eleanor smirks around her straw and takes a sip of her lemon water, her cunning smiling never fading.

                Harry knows that smile all too well, “What’s up?”

                “Hm?” Eleanor hums seemingly innocent, “Oh, nothing. I just think I know someone who would also like seeing you naked all over Vogue.”

                “El,” Harry says warningly.

                “What?” She sighs innocently.

                Harry cocks an eyebrow, “I was having a fantastic day before you mentioned Liam.”

                “I didn’t say his name,” Eleanor defends, “But yes, I’m certain Liam’s cock would go hard two seconds flat when he sees you like that.”

                Harry chokes on a California roll.

                “What?” Eleanor asks casually over Harry’s coughs, “It’s true.”

                “Jesus fucking Christ, Els!” Harry heaves a deep breath and centers his energy to not scream in the restaurant where there are paps outside taking pictures of them.

                All of Harry’s centering goes out the window when Eleanor drops a bombshell.

                “Well you can just ask Liam himself when we go to his game.”

                If looks could kill, Eleanor would be six feet underground in record timing.

                “El,” Harry says lowly, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

                Eleanor grins, “Well, I realized that your issue with Liam is because you two haven’t seen each other in a few weeks. You’ve both been so crazy busy, so,” she beams with excitement, “I bought some suit tickets for the game on Sunday!”

                Harry sighs, “Els.”

                “None of that,” Eleanor scolds, “You’ll thank me after you get some post-game sex.”

                “It’s not gonna happen.”

                “It will,” Eleanor dismisses Harry’s doubts, “We just need to get you two in the same room again and bam!”

                Harry frowns, “You make it sound too easy.”

                “You barely did anything the first time, and Liam was all over you then,” Eleanor reminds Harry, which he didn’t need any reminding of. Harry’s replayed the night they met about a million times already.

                “I dunno, Els.”

                “We’re going,” Eleanor decides for him, “At the very least, we’ll get to see a bunch of hot men in tight uniforms wrestle each other. And if everything goes to shit, we’ll get booze and ice cream and we’ll watch _The Notebook_ , okay?”

                And well, Harry just can’t say no to that.

~~~

                They’re in Massachusetts.

                _Fucking_ Massachusetts.

                Eleanor failed to mentioned that the Stadium where the Patriots play in is in some place called Foxborough, Massachusetts.

                How convenient.

                “I can’t believe we drove three hours just for me to get rejected on Sunday afternoon,” Harry laments as they settle into their suite. It’s a lovely suite, proper posh at that, with seating available inside and outside. Inside the suite, there’s a large flat screen TV to show the game up close, and an array of food, mainly what Harry considers to be football food like hotdogs and crisps. Outside the suite, there are seats on concrete steps that put you right into the crowd. The players on the opposing team, the Pittsburg Steelers, are running out onto the field and Harry is mortified that Patriot fans are booing them. They’re just doing their jobs, and Harry doesn’t see why they have to be so mean.

                Eleanor smacks Harry’s chest, “Stop saying that! You won’t be rejected. All we have to do is text Liam after the game that you’re here, and bam! If you play your cards right you might get locker room sex.”

                Harry opens his mouth to protest, but is silenced by roaring cheers vibrating throughout the stadium.

                The home team is running out onto the field.

                Harry spots Liam right away, the bold ‘PAYNE 29’ stands out over everyone else.

                Eleanor glances over at Harry’s frozen state and smirks to herself.

~~~

                The Patriots end up losing the game, 23-10.

                Harry can’t help but feel a bit sad. True, he doesn’t know enough about the game to truly understand where things fell apart. Liam’s team was winning at one point, but then things quickly turned south. Harry’s only truly seen one other game and knows enough about American football to tell something was off with Liam’s team. He just wants to know what Liam is thinking. What is he feeling?

                Not surprisingly, Harry is overwhelmed with the need to see Liam.

                Harry waits with Eleanor for a bit in the suite before texting Liam that they are at the game.

                _‘Hey Liam! Sorry for the loss ;( Actually, Eleanor and I came to the game. We’re in a suite and watched the whole thing. You were AMAZING btw! Just wanted to let you know ;)’_

                Ten minutes later, Harry hasn’t heard back from Liam and he slumps down in his seat.

                “Looks like the Patriots aren’t the loser tonight,” he comments.

                Eleanor sighs, “Didn’t you say post-game is crazy? Like, interviews, showers and something about a bath?”

                “An ice bath,” Harry corrects her, recalling Liam’s words, “It helps relax the muscles.”

                “He’s probably just super busy. We’ll wait a little bit longer.”

                Harry shakes his head, “Traffic’s gonna be Hell getting back to New York. We should leave soon.”

                “Nope,” Eleanor dismisses the thought casually, “Give the guy a sec, okay?”

                “Harry Styles?”

                Harry’s eyes widen at the super deep voice that appears behind him. A huge guy, easily 6’6 with massive muscles bulging out of his tight black shirt stands in the suite. Darks sunglasses cover his eyes, an ear piece sticks out of his right ear, and his head is bald.

                “Um,” Harry breathes out unsurely, “Yeah?”

                “I am Victor, one of Liam’s body guard,” the man, or Victor, states. Harry sits up a little bit.

                “Oh?” Eleanor happily sighs.

                Victor all but grunts in response and the adds, “He sent me to escort you two somewhere more private.”

                Harry’s heart starts picking. He nods weakly, and pulls the beanie down over his ears as they’re being whisked out of the room.

                Victor takes them to a deserted elevator. He uses a special key that opens the elevator doors. As the elevator goes down, Harry fidgets anxiously. Sure, a tiny part of him hoped that Liam would want to see him today. But Harry didn’t expect this to happen. He tries to settle himself down, to be the calm, cool and collected man that attracted Liam in the first place.

                The elevator stops, and opens up to some sort of underground garage.

                Harry holds his breath, expecting to see Liam right away.

                He’s surprised to see Louis instead, dressed in sweats and a hoodie. His brown fringe is wet under his backwards snapback and a cigarette graces his lips.

                “You must be Harry,” Louis greets him after puffing out some smoke.

                Harry nods, “And you’re Louis. Uh, Liam’s told me loads about you.”

                Louis stares at hip, blinks and cracks a smile, “Damn, that’s right-you’re British. I forgot for a second,” he laughs and fishes out another cigarette and his lighter, “Liam said you smoke, ya want one?”

                Harry’s stomach churns at the thought of seeing Liam again. He doesn’t need tobacco on top of that, “No thanks.”

                “I’ll take it,” Eleanor chimes in, her eye lashes fluttering ever so slightly.

                Louis smirks around his cigarette, “And who are you?” Eleanor takes it upon herself to take the cigarette.

                “Eleanor Calder,” she says proudly, “I’m a high end model.”

                Louis looks her up and down, “You don’t look like a model to me,” he says bluntly, eyeing her oversized sweatshirt that covered her shorts and black combat boots.

                Eleanor shrugs easily, “Makes sense you’d feel that way. You look like a ten-year old boy with daddy issues dressed you.” Harry sees Louis’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Clearly, he wasn’t’ expecting that at all. Eleanor places the cigarette in her lips and grins cunningly, “You gonna light me up or what?” 

                Louis scoffs and does what he’s told, all with a very intrigued look on his face.

                “Um,” Harry starts out, “Where’s Liam?”

                “He’s finishing up some interviews, he should be out here shortly,” Louis playfully smirks at him, “Liam seems quite happy to see you.”

                “Really?” Harry can’t help but ask, fearing he’s blushing.

                Louis nods, “I think he needs a bit of a pick me up. He gets all moody when we lose.”

                “Do you need a pick me up, Louis?” Eleanor boldly asks, her fingers playing with the zipper on Louis’ hoodie. She’s never been shy around boys, unlike Harry. She’s so sure of herself and knows what she wants in a matter of seconds and goes after it.

                Louis takes a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes locked on Eleanor. Harry can feel the tension between the two of them under his skin from five feet away. Louis puffs the smoke up and a wide, toothy grin unfolds.

                “I’d like that,” he says coolly and Harry, for one, is shocked.

                Off to the side, the door opens up loudly.

                Liam’s walking towards Harry, and God he looks good. Jeans with a long sleeve red shirt and a hoodie tied to his waist. He sees Harry and smiles brightly at him and Harry could just about die right then and there.

                “Hey,” the quarterback greets him.

                Harry smiles shyly, “Hi Liam.”

                “You should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve said hi before the game.”

                Harry shrugs, “Wanted to surprise you.”

                The two men awkwardly stare at each other in silence for a second. Harry’s hands are dying to get on Liam again, but he must tread carefully. It’s strained for sure, but Harry’s hoping it won’t be like that for long.

                Liam smiles happily, “I am surprised for sure,” he tells Harry, “though, I wish it was a better game for you.”

                “I’m sorry about the game,” Harry says sincerely. Liam shrugs.

                “It happens,” he says easily. He looks over Harry’s face before coughing awkwardly, “I, ah, have a house out here, right on the water. It’s not too far from here if you…I mean, if you and Eleanor had plans-”

                “No we don’t!” Eleanor jumps in. Harry looks her way; Eleanor’s tucked under Louis’ arm with his snapback on her head. Louis’ got a cocky smile on his lips, and it looks like both models are getting lucky with football players tonight, “I’m gonna hang out with Louis. Harry’s free as a bird.”

                Liam smiles, delighted, “Excellent,” he looks at Harry, “I mean, it’s still all up to up you-”

                “Yes,” Harry agrees quickly, maybe too quickly even. But Harry doesn’t care, not when Liam looks so pleased.

                Liam’s car is pulled up, a black Range Rover with black windows, and Victor opens the door for them. As Liam climbs in the back, Harry looks over at Eleanor and Louis. Both smirk at him knowingly and wave at him. Harry rolls his eyes at Eleanor before slipping into the car. Harry buckles himself in and looks to Liam, who gives a tight lipped smile.

                As the car pulls out onto the street, both men look out of their windows. At some point in the car ride, Liam’s hand reaches over to find Harry’s on the seat between them. Harry takes it, feeling Liam’s cold knuckles under his thumb.

                It’s something, and Harry will take anything Liam gives him.

~~~

                Harry is about to fucking scream.

                He’s been in Liam’s house for a couple of hours, and in that time, he’s flirted hardcore with the quarterback. But Liam hasn’t done a thing.

                Harry shouldn’t been complaining, not when he’s in a hot quarterback’s mansion on the Atlantic Ocean. The house is gorgeous, decorated as a modern beach house with pine wooden floors and dark walls with nautical art on the walls. Liam even made him a stupidly yummy meal, leaving Harry full and impressed. But still, Harry can’t help be feel a bit discouraged is all.

                First, harry made a cheeky remark when Liam gave Harry a house tour. When upstairs, Liam pointed at a closed door and informed Harry that was his bedroom, to which Harry stated he’d hope he’d get to see soon. Liam just laughed off the comment and lead Harry downstairs. That was a blow to Harry’s ego, but it was just the beginning. Liam made grilled cod for dinner and Harry chose to over exaggerate in order to gain Liam’s attention. He moaned at the taste of the fish (which was actually pretty damn good) but Liam hardly responded to it. As a last stitch effort, Harry threw all his cards in when his sock clad foot moved up Liam’s leg slowly, teasingly.

                That caused Liam to shoot up from his chair, “Sorry, um. My calves cramp up after games. I need to walk it off. I’ll be in the kitchen.” And with that, Liam quickly let the room.

                Harry, a grown ass man, is currently sitting at the dinning room table pouting. Half of him is tempted to get out, to make up an excuse to leave and cry all the way back to New York. But then a little voice inside of Harry tells him, no. He did not come all this way, fucking four hours away from home, just to get rejected. Damn it, he likes Liam and he will get Liam to notice him.

                Harry quickly sips down the rest of his wine before standing up. He takes his plate, utensils and wine glass with him. Liam’s putting away the wine in the fridge and Harry sets down his dirty dishes in the sink. He waits until Liam closes his fridge before Harry goes in, closing Liam against the appliance and kissing him fiercely.

                The gasp that Liam makes is swallowed in Harry’s mouth, but his second of shock wears off and Liam’s kissing Harry back just as hard. God, Harry’s knees nearly buckle because kissing Liam is just too good. He’s missed it so much. The way Liam’s hands sprawl across Harry’s lower back, the scent of Liam’s cologne thick in his nostrils, the taste of Liam’s lips. Harry can’t help but fit his knee against Liam’s dick, relishing in feeling it swell up.

                “H-Harry,” Liam breathes once Harry breaks the kiss. He wastes no time getting to his knees in front of the quarterback, making him moan as he unbuckles his belt. He tugs on Liam’s jeans and boxers down in one go, freeing Liam’s gorgeous, half hard cock. Harry whimpers at it, drawing a _‘God, Baby,’_ from Liam and that’s enough for Harry.

                He licks the underside, causing a bead of pre-cum to ooze out and Liam’s dick hardens instantly. Feeling proud, Harry smirks around the tip and licks the slit quickly, causing Liam’s to shake briefly before tensing up. With one hand cupping Liam’s balls and messaging them, Harry stops teasing and takes Liam into his mouth. He’s thick, heavy on his tongue and the musky scent of Liam overwhelms Harry but he goes on.  Inch by inch, Harry takes Liam down as far as he can before he gags. But it’s worth it just to hear Liam’s swear and feel his legs withering against Harry. Harry finds a rhythm, popping his head and rolls Liam’s balls in his hand.

                “Yeah, baby,” Liam stutters, “Y-You’re so good. I-I wanna taste you too.”

                Harry pulls off, smirking teasingly as he pumps Liam’s cock with his hands, “Yeah?” he asks, pre-cum coating his mouth. Liam nods almost desperately.

                “W-wanna e-shit, baby. G-Gotta eat you out.”

                Harry whimpers as Liam finds the strength to pull Harry by a bit of his hair. They share a searing kiss as Liam slips his hands under Harry’s shirt. Harry does the same to Liam and the two break off to pull their shirts off, leaving Liam naked and Harry topless. Liam goes in to kiss Harry again, this time licking into Harry’s mouth and biting his bottom lip as his hands pull down Harry’s jeans.

                Harry smirks knowingly when he pulls back and steps out of his jeans. Liam’s hooded eyes perk open.

                “Are those-” he begins but can finish. Harry sighs happily Liam cups him through the boxers, right where a patch of pre-cum has puddled, “Fuck, those are mine, yeah?”

                Harry nods, his mind fuzzy, “I’ve worn them, _God_ ,” Harry throws his head back as Liam rubs him off, “I wear them all the time, ever since the first time,” he confesses. He shrinks when Liam roughly pulls down the boxers as his other hand cups Harry’s face, darkly looking into his eyes.

                “I need to taste you, now,” he pushes Harry onto his knees again, and Harry’s not complaining one bit when Liam’s joining him on the ground. He loves being manhandled, being moved around so he was on his side, and right in front of Liam’s perfect cock. He tilts his head and captures Liam back in his mouth humming around him as Liam twists Harry’s hips, caging his head in between Harry’s thighs and exposing him completely. Liam groans, muttering something about how smooth and pretty Harry was. Heat spreads across the model’s body.

                At the first lick against his hole, Harry whines around Liam’s dick. It’s been so long, too long since he’s been eaten out and Liam is fucking great at it. Harry tried to focus on Liam, on sucking him off the way he deserves but it’s hard when said man’s tongue is teasing his hole one second with feather light licks, and delving in the next second with hard licks. Harry has tears in his eyes after only a few minutes, his mind breaking out.

                “That’s it,” Liam praises Harry gently, his hands roughly gripping both of his ass cheeks. Harry cries out when Liam fucking bites his right cheek, early choking around Liam’s dick, but it eggs him on to suck harder, “Fuck baby, j-just like that. Sooo good, you taste so fucking good babe.”

                Harry pulls back so the tip is only in his mouth. He sucks hard, his tongue flicking rapidly under the head, and Harry feels Liam’s thighs tremble.

                “F-Fuck!” Liam moans, his finger tips circling Harry’s hole vigorously, “So-close babe. Make me cum, H-Harry. Just like that.” Liam goes back to rimming Harry, long licks quickly turning into swirls around the puckered rim. Harry wraps his arms tightly around Liam’s leg to brace himself.

                Tears pour down Harry’s cheeks as he pushes down as hard as he can, his jaw hurting and he gags a little but he doesn’t care. The tip pushes the back of Harry’s tight throat of Liam’s hips jerk up in his mouth.

                Liam whines brokenly, his hips moving up into Harry’s mouth ever so slightly. Harry relaxes his throat and takes Liam, lets him fuck his throat as the quarter back swears.

                “S-Shit, gonna-I’m-” is all Harry hears before he feels the tip throb on his tongue. Cum drizzles down his throat and Harry needs to breathe. He draws back as Liam continues to orgasm, his cum streaking Harry’s lips and cheek as he breathes heavily.

                After a minute, Liam’s tongue is on his hole once more, his face jerking side to side as he eats Harry raw.

                “F-Fuck, Li!” Harry drops the side of his head to the floor and takes what Liam gives him. Tension builds in his gut, his body quivers against Liam and the tears just don’t seem to stop.

                Harry cums when Liam sticks a dry finger into his hole while still eating him out, and a string of curse words leaves his cums stained lips.

~~~

                “Soo,” Liam says a bit later on, cutting the silence. Harry laughs, his mind still reeling and his body perfectly limp after sex. Liam some out found the strength to get a blanket and make a cup of tea for the both of them. Harry reasons it to the sportsman stamina. Liam’s pulled him into his chest, and wraps the blanket around their backs to shield it from the wooden cabinets behind them.

                Harry curls up against Liam’s bare shoulder, his lips smirking, “So, since you’re shit at picking up my cues, I quite like you a lot Liam James.”

                “Really?!” Harry’s surprised by Liam’s reaction.

                He fondly rolls his eyes, “I don’t let just any man eat me out, Li. And I’ve been flirting with you for weeks and you didn’t do a damn thing so. I took things in my own hands.”

                “I figured you were flirting,” Liam admits, “I mean, I guessed as much. But, I thought you were still pissed off at me for lying about who I was. I didn’t wanna to push you and flirt back.” And just like that, Harry has an answer, one that actually makes sense.

                Harry shrugs, “I mean, that wasn’t cool. But I got to know you a lot better these last few weeks and,” he grins at Liam, soft and fondly as he pets his shoulder, “I like you Liam James.”

                “I like you too, Harry Edward,” Liam admits softly.  Harry’s heart flutters as Liam stokes his hair, “I started things off on the wrong fucking foot. You didn’t deserve that, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure I don’t hurt you again.”

                Harry smiles brightly, knowing Liam wasn’t lying to him.

                Liam looks forward and frowns at the fridge, “Is that…my ass print?”

                Harry looks over and-oh yeah. That’s definitely an ass on the fridge. Jesus.

                “Ah,” Harry sighs, “gotta love stainless steel.”

                “Ugh,” Liam grimaces, “I don’t like seeing that. It’s so unappetizing.”

                “Well I like it,” Harry muses, “It’s modern art, showcasing the beauty of the male physique and the heat of the moment with-”  

                Liam topples Harry over to shut him up with tickles and kisses to his neck.

                And well, Harry doesn’t mind being shut up like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I always appreciate anyone who takes time out of their busy lives to read what I've written. It means the world to me :)  
> *PLEASE LEAVE NICE COMMENTS AND KUDOS! THANK YOU!*  
> I don't know when I'll update this next. My birthday is in a month (November 12th) and I wont to post a full Elounor fic on that date. I'm working on two right now, and both need a lot of writing and as much time as I can give.  
> Check me out on tumblr for more updates at Teatimetommo!  
> Take care guys! :D


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii! Sorry for the super long wait for this chapter. I was focusing on my medieval Elounor fic and I also had a surgery in which there were some pumps in the road for my recovery. But I finished this chapter this week and I hope you all like it!   
> Please read and enjoy! :)

Harry stops wiping the make-up off his face and looks at Liam in the mirror. Both men had been invited (separately) to an extravagant Halloween party in the city. Harry thought that it was Heidi Klum’s party, but Liam argued that it was supposedly Demi Lovato’s party. They had a lengthy debate about which party they ended up at.

                _(‘I’ve just never heard of Demi throwing a Halloween party before, Li.’_

_‘But she’s more relevant today then Heidi Klum is!’_

_‘….Okay, I’m gonna pretend really hard that you did not actually say that.’_

_‘What? It’s true!’_ )

                Regardless, Harry and Liam went to a Halloween party, not together per say. But if at one point during the party they two had snuck off to the bathrooms to snug, well no one needed to know.

                Harry smirks at Liam and turns to face him, “You still have a bit of face paint on ya, love.”

                Liam flushes as Harry wiped the tinge of red paint around the edge of his lip. The fucking nerd went as The Joker for the Halloween party, dressed up in a custom purple suit, dyed green wig and full Heath Ledger’s Joker face make-up.

                “You still have blue glitter under your eye,” Liam retorts with a smirk. Harry stays still as Liam thumbs away at his undereye. When he is done, Liam fondly brushes his nose against Harry’s, “My only angel.”

                Harry scoffs and pulls away, shaking his head, “God, Li. You need to stop saying that!” He’s a bit tiff, maybe even annoyed, but he still lets Liam pull him into his chest as the footballer crones.

                “Aw, baby,” Liam nearly whines, but Harry’s too focused on the pet name. Liam’s been calling him that since day one, nearly two months now, and yet there are times when Liam says ‘baby’ and Harry’s mind sorta stops briefly. But Liam doesn’t need to know that, not at all.

                “I can I not call you angel when you literally dressed up as an angel? Wings, halo, blue glittery eye shadow and all.”

                Harry pouts, “I’m always an angel though.” Liam cocks an eyebrow.

                “Really?” he muses, his hands finding Harry’s hips and a dangerous gleam in his eye, “Because I’ve seen you’ve had a little bit of devil side to you.”

                “Never,” Harry gasps, but smirks, “I’m gonna be an angel, just you wait and see.”

                Liam grins into Harry’s lips as they share a small peck, with Liam’s breath being extra minty fresh from just brushing his teeth. When he draws back, Liam states, “Keep the angel wings. Not only because they’re fucking designer angel wings and probably cost you half of your fortune-”

                “Hey!” Harry protests, “Halloween only happens once a year,” Liam’s hands slid down Harry’s sides and loosely grip Harry’s hips. The model grins cockily, “And you weren’t complaining much an hour ago when I was starkers, only wearing said designer wings.”

He looks at Liam triumphantly, because Harry knows he won. It wasn’t his idea to be thoroughly fucked Halloween night, with both being tipsy and Harry still wearing part of his costume. In fact, it was rather weird, since Liam still had his whole Joker face makeup on and most of his peeled off Liam’s face while they where doing the deed thanks to the sweat. Harry can’t say he ever thought about being fucked by the _Joker_ of all bloody things. But hey, Harry hadn’t seen Liam in a few days and he was horny, and clearly so was Liam. When duty calls, who is Harry to postpone it? He would never do such a thing, and the sex was amazing as ever. So Harry can’t complain one bit.

                “Starkers,” Liam mumbles fondly in a horrendous British accent. He goes on, a bit more serious, “But no, you should keep those wings because I know you loved wearing them tonight, and he looked fucking stunning as usual.” Harry’s a bit stunned as Liam drops his head down to Harry’s bare shoulder, where he kisses the skin there softly once, and then twice, “You should always be that confident, baby.”

                Harry licks his lips, and cautiously lifts Liam’s face up. His thumb drops to Liam’s birthmark, and grazes over it briefly.

                “You should be confident about who you are too, Li,” he says carefully. Liam’s lips quip up, almost like a pained grin. He never talks about it, not since their first hook up at least. Harry can’t imagine the pressure Liam experiences as being a closeted gay man, and a star football player. Liam should be out and proud, completely unapologetic about his love life. But he can’t be, and it breaks Harry’s heart. They’ve known each other for a couple months now, and Liam still refuses to discuss it.

                Liam smiles, “You’re so sweet,” he says, and gives a quick peck on Harry’s cheek. The model deflates, knowing that the conversation was been dropped. Harry puts a tight smile on and brushes his nose against Liam’s birthmark (which is something he’s become a bit obsessed with since whatever relationship they have started up).

                “Sorry if I care about you,” Harry retorts, his voice a bit timid. Liam looks at him, his gaze a bit dodgy, so Harry questions him, “What?”

                “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

                And well, Harry wasn’t expecting that at all.

                “What?” asks the model.

                “I know you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving on the other side of the pond,” Liam remarks sarcastically and Harry rolls his eyes, despite his heart pounding for some reason. Liam’s biting back a grin before continuing, “But Thanksgiving is a big deal here: lots of turkey, being thankful for the things in your life, and football.”

                Harry snorts at the last item on the list, “I wonder what bit is your favorite.”

                Liam looks at him stoically before flatly answering, “Spending time with the people I care about.”

                Bloody Hell, Harry really wasn’t expecting that.

                “Li,” he whispers, feeling gooey inside.

                “I go back home for Thanksgiving, to Ohio that is,” Liam sighs as she brushes a curl out of Harry’s eye. He’s not looking at Harry’s eyes as he says, “And, if you want to, I’d like you to come with me, H.”

                “Wow,” Harry breathes out, desperately trying to remain calm, “That’s, uh-yeah.”

                Liam scoffs, his hands tightening around Harry’s hips, “Look, I know it seems really odd, but my mom’s dying to meet you and-”

                “Your mom?!” Harry all but screeches. Liam blinks.

                “Well, yeah. For Thanksgiving we all go back to my parents’ house in Ohio. It’ll be just my parents and Ruth this year, and not Nicola. My oldest sister, you remember her yeah?”

                Harry nods, “Nicola, the flight attendant?”

                “Yep,” Liam says, almost proudly, “Anyway, she couldn’t get anyone to cover her shift at work. So, this year, Nicola will spend most of her Thanksgiving on a redeye from Japan to LA.”

                “That’s sad,” Harry comments.

                Liam shrugs, “I’ve missed holidays, birthdays and anniversaries before because of my job. I know you understand what that’s like too, with your job and all.”

                Harry nods sagely, knowing all too well what that’s like.

                “I don’t want to pressure you, Harry,” Liam insists, “I just want to extend the invitation, selfishly, because I want to be with you every chance I get.”

                Harry ponders on this. This is a big step, especially considering that there’s not an official label on their relationship yet. Sure, the thought of taking that next step and becoming boyfriends has constantly been in Harry’s brain every second he’s spent with Liam for the last couple of months. But the problem is, Harry was never sure if Liam felt the same way. Was Liam okay with just being fuck buddies or did he want more? If he did, Harry could never tell before now.

                Now though, Liam was extending an invitation to have a proper Thanksgiving at his folk’s house, in Liam’s hometown.

                “Okay,” Harry says quickly, not wanting to miss the opportunity.

                Liam sighs and strokes Harry’s cheek, “Babe, are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you. I shouldn’t have-”

                “No,” Harry stops him, leaning up on his tippy toes to plant a kiss on Liam’s cheek, “I’m want to go, really I do. I wanna see what life is like in Oregon, Ohio,” At that, Liam scoffs and Harry’s quick to defend himself, “Well it’s true! And I’d love to meet your mum, she sounds like a gem.”

                Liam smirks sheepishly, “She is amazing. My mom thinks your so cute.”

                Harry hates himself for actually blushing, but he can’t help it.

                “I don’t want to intrude,” Harry tells Liam, his finger tips playing with the hair along the back of Liam’s neck.

                “You wouldn’t be,” Liam states surely, “My family would love to have you over. In fact, they were the ones that told me to invite you over to stay.”

                Harry curls his lips, “Really?” he asks after a second. Liam nods quickly before leaning in to give him a brisk kiss.

                “They want you there,” Liam tells him lowly, before softly adding with conviction in his gaze, “I want you there too, H.”

                Harry grins happily, “Okay.”

                “Really?” Liam almost beams with happiness. God, it’s adorable. Harry nods.

                “I’m excited to finally have a proper Thanksgiving dinner,” Harry says.

                Liam boasts, “My mom makes the best food! Turkey, stuffing, cranberry compote, sweet potato casserole-it’s all fantastic!”

                “What’s a sweet potato casserole?” Harry questions as Liam begins kissing his neck. Hm, agreeing to go home with Liam for Thanksgiving is making Liam quite handsy, Harry notes. He bites his lip as Liam gropes his ass firmly.

                Liam asks, his lips just above Harry’s neck, “You’ve never had sweet potato casserole before?” When Harry shakes his head, Liam explains, “It’s mashed sweet potato with marshmallows on top.”

                “Sweet potato and marshmallow?!” Harry grimaces.

                Liam looks at him fondly as he giggles, “God, I love your accent,” he comments, succeeding in making Harry blush madly. He sighs as he runs his fingers in Harry’s hair, “Babe, it’s really good.”

                “But like-no. It’s mixing together a sweet and a vegetable! You’re lying-you must be!” Harry accuses, scandalized.

                For a solid ten minutes, Liam tries to convince Harry that A) sweet potato casserole is actually a real thing (it took a quick trip on Google for Harry to accept this0 and B) assure Harry that it is indeed edible, and even enjoyable. In the end though, Harry isn’t quite sure of what to think of sweet potato casserole.

But it doesn’t really matter, not when Liam curls up against Harry from behind on his bed. They’re at the point now where they don’t even ask if the other one is spending the night. Harry grins against his pillow and sinks farther back into Liam’s chest. He moves Liam’s arm over his chest and locks their fingers together. Liam tells Harry how excited he is for Thanksgiving, and how much he can’t wait for Harry to meet his family.

And well, maybe it means nothing or maybe it means everything. Maybe it means they’re official now and doing official couple-y type things like meeting the family. Or maybe this is just a causal holiday trip and nothing more.

Either way, Liam is stupidly happy, and Harry’s simple yes was all it took to make Liam happy.

Harry doesn’t need answers right now. One day he will, but for now, Harry is content in just drifting off to sleep with Liam kissing the back of his neck.

~~~

                “So let me get this straight,” and God, Harry thought. It’s too early for Harry to handle Eleanor when she has that tone in her voice. He rolls his eyes as he slips into the backseat of the Range Rover with his Yves Saint Laurent leather duffle bag on his shoulder. Harry keeps the sunglasses on his eyes, even though it’s four-thirty in the morning.

                He hopes the paps haven’t noticed him.

                Eleanor, much to Harry’s dismay, continues, “You’re going to spent Thanksgiving with Liam’s family without knowing for sure if things are official between you two yet?”

                “El,” Harry groans, and mouths a mute ‘thank you’ to Steve, his driver, as he hands Harry a piping hot cuppa. The car takes off then, and Harry’s heart picks up a bit, eager for this holiday to begin. Harry reminds Eleanor, “We’ve been over this a bunch of times in the last week.”

                “Well I’m still confused by it,” she tells him stubbornly, “Why can’t you fucking ask him if you two are an item?”

                Harry has given you an answer before to that question. In fact, he’s given her several answers to that question. He’s told her that he doesn’t want to push Liam, and possibly ruin the best relationship (and sex) he’s ever had with a man. He’s told Eleanor that he can’t just ask Liam if they’re together, because he’s afraid of the possible answers as well. He’s afraid of being rejected, and so if Liam doesn’t have the option to turn Harry down, then he won’t reject Harry. Problem solved.

                But clearly, Eleanor doesn’t get it.

                Instead of trying to make her understand, Harry changes the topic.

                “Why the Hell did you even call me at four-thirty?” Harry asks.

                Eleanor pauses, “No reason. I just got back from Louis’ place and I’m not tired. I just wanted to wish you well before I lose you to Liam for the rest of the week.”

                “You were with Louis?” Harry muses, suddenly feeling less tired.

                “Yep,” Eleanor confirms, “He’s going back home for Thanksgiving later today, so we spent some time together.”

                Harry’s eyebrow perks up, “Oh really? Did you two have sexy times?” he playfully asks, and then winced slightly when he looks at Steve. The poor man, he thought. Harry will give him a kickass Christmas present this year for constantly putting up with Harry’s shit. 

                Eleanor, however, is totally unfazed by the question, “He’s got a great cock, H.”

                “God,” Harry groans, “Please stop-”

                “Might be just average length wise,” Eleanor goes on shamelessly, “But it’s soo thick-”

                “I’m hanging up now,” Harry informs Eleanor flatly.

Eleanor sighs and politely tells Harry, “You suck.”

Harry grins as he scoffs, “Goodbye, and have a great Thanksgiving.”

“Ask Liam if you two are boyfriends or not!” Eleanor demands Harry.

Harry retorts, “Keep having daydreams of Louis’ dick, El.”

As he ends the call, Harry sees Steve eyeing him in the rearview mirror with a knowing look.

Harry bites his lip and asks him, “Do you like European chocolates, Steve?”

“I love them, Mr. Styles,” Steve responds professionally.

Harry nods and makes a quick note of this in his cell, hoping a nice expensive set of European chocolates will make up for Steve having to hear this conversation, and many, many other embarrassing conversations he’s heard.

Liam’s booked a private charter plane to go back to Ohio. Harry’s excited, naturally, because he loves traveling but he especially loves traveling in a private plane with a hot quarterback. Life can’t get much better, not when Steve is driving through the gate at the airport, and Harry can see the charter plane on the tarmac. Another Range Rover is there already, and Harry unbuckles his seat when he sees Liam outside the plane, waiting for him.

How gentlemanly.

“Hey babe,” Liam greets him with a chaste kiss to his lips. God, Harry marvels openly at Liam because he looks extra good today. It’s bitterly cold in the city, and Liam’s told Harry that it’ll only be worse in Ohio. So Liam’s bundled up in a knit sweater and loose sweatpants with a snapback on his head. Harry notes that Liam hasn’t shaved yet, and he loves it when Liam has stubble and wants to graze his chin against it.

Harry smiles at him as Liam takes his bag, “Thank you love.” Liam seems caught off-guard by the pet name, and grins shyly.

“I got a mimosa ready for you on the plane,” Liam tells him, “So, um. If you’re ready I’ll tell the pilot we can take off.”

“I’m ready,” Harry says surely. Liam beams as he takes Harry’s hand and leads him up the steps and onto the plane.

~~~

                As Harry suspected, Liam’s family is damn near perfect.

                Liam’s childhood him is on a farm, not too far from town but far enough that Liam and Harry can go out on the third acre property and not feel the need to hide. Karen Payne is a true delight, and stocked up the guest bedroom with some of Harry’s favorite things, which she apparently weaseled out of Liam. He was truly touched when he saw the array of vanilla candles and lavender bubble bath, and chuckled when he saw the chocolate mint candy on his pillow.

                Harry didn’t think he was worth such over the top treatment, but Karen assured him he was.

                (‘ _Harry you’re so cute!’ Karen squealed over dinner the first night._

_‘Mom, you can’t say that every time Harry uses British slang,’ Geoff told his wife sweetly._

_But Harry told her, ‘Oh don’t worry, Karen. I’m used to your son making a fuss over my accent all the time.’_

_The table chuckled, but Liam didn’t even bother trying to deny it._

_‘Mom’s right,’ Liam said, his hand finding Harry’s under the table, ‘You are bloody adorable.’_

_And, honestly, shame on Liam for making Harry blush in front of Liam’s folks.)_

Now, Harry finds himself squatting down in front of Liam, his sock covered toes sinking into the grass. From behind him, Harry hears Liam let out a long whistle.

“My, my,” Liam says lowly, and places a hand on the middle of Harry’s back. He leans into Harry and whispers in his ear, “Now, why can’t you be my center? I got myself a lovely view back here.”

Harry lowers his hand and cackles, his fingers unsurely wrapping at the football place in between your feet.

“I thought you said your center was really good?” Harry plays along, “What’s his name again? Jackson?”

Liam corrects him, “Jensen,” and Harry sighs contently as Liam’s hand moves farther down his back, dangerously nearing his arse. Liam sounds as though he’s smirking as he tells Harry, “Jensen’s ass has nothing on yours baby.”

“Good to know I have less competition,” Harry says, and Liam grips his hipbones in response.

“There’s no competition, babe,” Liam tells him flatly, “There’s you, only you H.”

Harry tucks his head into his chest, not trusting his own words.

And then suddenly.

“Set!” Liam yells, and Harry tenses up.

“The Hell-”

“Green 80, Green 80!” Liam yells again.

Harry looks over his shoulder, “What are you saying, Li?”

“Plays, love,” Liam tells him sweetly, his hands giving Harry a last squeeze on his hips once again, “I’ll tell you what they all mean one day when you know the game better.”

One day, Harry thinks fondly.

Liam’s hands move off of Harry, and eases a few inches off of Harry. “Hut, hut!” Liam yells, and Harry freezes up once more. After a few seconds, the quarterback leans back in and informs Harry, “Love, that’s when you’re suppose to snap the ball back to me.”

Harry nods, “Ah, yeah okay.” He lamely hikes the football back, hoping it lands in Liam’s hands like Harry’s seen successfully done in other football games.

Sadly, Harry hears the ball drop behind him with a roaring thud.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters and Liam chuckles.

“Don’t worry, H! It’s why I’m teaching you football, I don’t expect you to be Mike Webster just yet.”

Harry frowns over his shoulder, “Who?” he asks, and practically sees the life being drained from Liam’s face.

“Christ,” he whispers, and then shakes his head at himself, “Let’s just focus on trying to get you the catch the football instead.”

Harry groans as he stands up back straight, his bones cracking on his knees, “Not again,” he almost begs, “You throw the ball too fast!”

“It’s my job babe!” Liam protests, a wide grin on his lips, “It’s like me complaining that you look too hot in your shoots.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, “At least looking too fit in my shoots isn’t gonna kill anyone.”

“Hello,” Liam exaggerates, “Have you even scene those beautiful pictures of you in next month’s Vogue?”

Ah, well.

“You liked them then?” Harry asks him teasingly.

Liam pulls a cocky grin, “Yeah I like them, I like those fucking pictures a lot. It nearly killed me when I first saw them.”

Well then. That’s good to know at least.

“You know,” Harry thinks out loud, his finger tips dancing over the center of Liam’s chest, “I can recreate those pictures if you like, hm? Maybe I could make it a little bit more…private.”

Liam straightens his stance, his tongue slightly licking his lips, “Yeah?”

“Just get me off this bloody field Li, and I’ll give you-”

“Oh no,” Liam tuts, “I can’t-did you really just try to use sex to get out of catching a fucking ball? Really, H?”

Shit, Harry thinks. His plan has been foiled.

“You make it sound so easy,” Harry pouts, “Last time I checked, you’re just throwing the ball!”

“Oh my God,” Liam exclaims, shaking his head. But he bites his lip and fondly stares at Harry, “Look, if you’re really not into this we can stop, okay? I just, like sharing this part of me with you. I-I still feel pretty shitty for not telling you who I was from the start.”

Harry scoffs as he fluffs out his hair, “As you should,” he playfully retorts.

“But,” Liam responds. Harry lets out a long, low breath as Liam’s hands messages his hips, “I have to say, I have selfish reasons for getting you out here.”

“Knew it,” Harry exhales just as Liam squeezes his hip. Liam smirks, but his eyes are much darker then before. God, Harry loves having this affect on Liam.

Liam continues, his breath stifling hot on his neck, “I love seeing you bent over me. Reminds me so much of our first time.”

And fuck. Liam plays dirty.

Harry loves it.

He gulps thickly, “Yeah?”

“Hm,” Liam hums, his lips moving up to his ear, “I keep thinking, pretending really, that we’re back in high school and I’m the lead quarter back and you’re my super-hot cheerleader boyfriend.”

Oh, how cliché, Harry thinks. Of course, Liam has a cheerleader fetish.

But it’s also kinda hot too.

“Do I look cute in my uniform?” Harry plays along, drawing a deep groan from Liam.

“Hot,” Liam tells him, “You look so fucking hot, babe.”

Harry grins as his hand plays with his belt buckle, “I dunno, Li. My skirt’s pretty short, you can practically seem my arse when I do my stunts.”

“S-Shit,” Liam whimpers, and Harry goes in for the kill.

“And I’m not wearing anything under them.”

Liam kisses Harry, hard and swift and perfect. Harry grins victoriously as Liam tosses the football to the side and holds Harry closer by his hips. He’s worked up, Harry can feel him hardening up against his thigh and it is just glorious.

And then—

“Liam! Harry!”

Both men pull off quickly at the sound of Liam’s mom’s voice echoing off in the backyard. Thankfully, she sounds are off and Harry’s thinking she’s still inside the house and not in the large backyard. For the most part, Harry and Liam are concealed behind Geoff’s shed. It would have been terribly awkward if Karen saw Harry snogging her boy.

“Fuck,” Liam whispers breathlessly.

Harry smirks at him slyly, “Yes Karen?!” He yells back.

“Ruth’s pulling up the driveway now!” Karen exclaims back, “She’s just dying to meet you Harry!”

“We’ll be right there!” Harry shouts. He looks back at Liam and giggles at his pouty face, “Oh stop that! We’re here to spend time with your family!”

Liam sighs heavily, “But babe, I wanna fuck you. It’s not fair!”

Harry grins and reaches his hand up to comb Liam’s hair, “We will babe, just be patient.”

“Promise?” Liam asks. Harry leans in and gives Liam another teasing kiss, his teeth gently nibbling on his lip.

“Promise, babe.”

It takes Liam an extra five minutes to come back to the house after Harry does.

                And Harry tries desperately not to laugh at Liam’s bewildered state while Ruth is talking to him.

~~~

                It’s well after midnight when Harry silently trots down the hall from the guest bedroom to Liam’s childhood room. The hold wood floors somehow don’t creak beneath Harry’s steps, his cold bare feet and the thrill of it all makes him walk quickly. Perhaps it’s a bit stupid to galivant through his unofficial boyfriend’s childhood home in nothing but an oversize sweater and a golden thong but Harry couldn’t help it. It’s been days since Liam’s fucked him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about their little escapade in Liam’s backyard all day. Harry’s heart hammers in his chest once he reaches Liam’s door. He doesn’t bother knocking on the door, just opens it silently and walks right in.

                “ ‘Ello?” Liam mumbles disobediently from the small twin bed against the far wall. Harry flips on the lamp next to the door and smirks at Liam sitting up slightly on the bed. His eyes are half open and his hair is sticking in all directions but what really gets Harry is Liam’s bare chest sneaking over the covers. God is pecs are just so defined.

                Harry whispers back, “Hey Li.” Liam’s eyes widen and become more alert upon Harry’s voice.

                “Baby?” he croaks out from his bed. Harry walks over to the side of the bed and cocks and eyebrow at him. He doesn’t waste time, just climbs onto Liam’s lap and curls himself against his body. He runs his nose along Liam’s birthmark and breathes deeply.

                “Hm,” Harry hums delightfully, “You smell good.”

                “W-What—? Liam stammers sleepily and Harry finds it just adorable.

                God, he wants to ruin him.

                Harry explains, “Well love, I did promise you could fuck me, didn’t I?” Liam lets out a low breath at that went straight to Harry’s dick. He kisses Liam’s birthmark one last time before sitting up in his lap. He runs his hands over Liam’s chest and happily tells him, “So I prepped myself a little while ago in the guest bath—”

                “Fuck,” Liam hisses, almost painfully.

                Harry grins like a cat.

                “And now, I’m gonna ride you until you forget your name,” Harry informs Liam. He shucks off his sweater and beams at Liam’s awestruck face, “Does that sound good do you, babe?”

                Liam nods dumbly, “Um, y-yes. Fuck yes, H.” His hands roughly cup Harry’s ass and his face morphs comedically, “Shit is that-are you wearing a thong?”

                “Yes I am,” Harry grins, and moves to lay Liam down on the mattress. He grinds his hips back into Liam’s palms and rivals in feeling Liam’s fattening up in his boxers under Harry’s own semi. He kisses Liam harshly, whimpering against his lips as Liam claws his nails into his pert ass.

                When they separate, Liam looks dazed already, “P-Please H. Gotta, need to be inside ya.”

Harry sits up and pulls a condom out of the front of his thong. Liam bites his own lip hard, his hands doing circles on his upper thighs. He slips his fingers under the strap of Harry’s thong and snaps it back onto his skin.

“Ow!” Harry cries out softly.

Liam gives him a pointed look, “That’s for ambushing me like this, on the night before Thanksgiving no less.”

“It’s technically Thanksgiving already,” Harry tells him, “And we’re gonna have to be quick about this. I promised Karen I’d get up early to help cook the dinner.”

Liam huffs a fond breath, and surprises Harry back cupping Harry’s dick. Harry groans softly and throws his head back, whimpering Liam’s name softly.

“I like domestic Harry,” Liam comments. When Harry comes back to his senses, he’s the one giving a pointed look.

“I think you’d much rather prefer cheerleader Harry,” he comments, and feels victorious at Liam’s shocked expression.

“You-can we make that happen?”

“Someday,” Harry says idly, his hands softly gliding over Liam’s neck. He gives it a good squeeze, one not too hard but still firm. Liam’s chocked off breath is like music to his ears. Harry leans down and talks into Liam’s cheek, “For now, though, I’m gonna talk my pretty thong off. While I do that, you take your boxers off and get the condom on. After that, I want you to hold onto the headboard so it won’t make any noise. I don’t trust you can be quiet-”

“I-I can,” Liam croaks out.

Harry clicks his tongue, his head shaking, “See? You’re already being so loud, and we haven’t even started,” he shakes Liam’s hands off his body and gets up from the bed. Liam looks at him, eager for a command from Harry. They switch control from time to time. Harry mostly likes being dominated but also loves watching Liam be controlled. It’s a sight he’s proud to see, Liam being all desperate and whiney being obedient to Harry’s every command. God, he loves it.

“Well,” Harry says, “Do as your told.”

Liam nods quickly and tugs off his boxers, his lovely cock springs back on his abs. Harry takes his thong off and gives his own dick a few strokes just to settle himself as Liam rolls on the condom. Liam looks up at him then and that’s when Harry takes off his thong. Liam shamelessly licks his lip and reaches behind his head and his hands latch onto the headboard. Harry smiles as he twirls his thong around his finger.

“Good boy,” Harry praises Liam, and he just looks so blissfully happy to please him. But Harry’s quick to tell him, “But Li, I know how worked up you get when we fuck. You’re so loud, and we can’t risk having your parents hear us.”

Liam shakes his head, “I-I’ll be quiet.”

“I know you will,” Harry agrees flatly. He carefully shoves his thong into Liam’s mouth, making the man huff lowly into the fabric. His heavy breathing fills the room, and his widened eyes waiting for Harry in anticipation is so fucking hot.

Harry gets back on top of Liam and his hand goes to confidently grab the other man’s thick. Liam’s breath picks up as Harry jerks him off slowly, frustratingly slow. Harry can’t help but moan quietly in his ear.

“Ohh Liam,” he mumbles, almost disoriented. He licks his lip and goes on, “Fuck Li. I can’t wait to feel you. Gonna fill me up so good aren’t ya? Like you always do hm?” Liam huffs against the thong and nods quickly. Harry hums, his finger tracing his jaw, “Oh of course you will, Li. You’re so good for me. Love your cock so much. You always stretch me out so much and leaves me sore for days. My arse is gonna hurt so much sitting at the table for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Liam whines, actually whines at that, and bucks his hips pathetically at that. If they had more time and were back in one of their own flats, Harry would draw this out more. But they don’t have time, this certainly isn’t the place, and Harry just needs it. He needs Liam so bad.

With dark eyes, Harry moves back. Liam watches him intently as Harry lifts himself up a little, his hand still wrapped around his cock. He places it at his entrance, still slicked with lube, and sinks down gradually. Liam’s eyes flutter closed and his head lulls back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, shallowly and he’s already breaking a sweat.

Harry just wants to ruin him.

Or maybe, be ruined by Liam.

~~~

                Harry learns a lot at his first proper Thanksgiving.

                First, Liam’s family must be a national treasure in America. They’re all so bloody polite and cheerful and so sincere.

Karen fawns over Harry during dinner, as any mother would. Karen finds every little detail of Harry and compliments it, making him blush a little. She persistently keeps filling his plate throughout the dinner to make sure he never goes hungry. Geoff’s good for a laugh and always seems to take the piss out of Liam but in a friendly, fond way that makes Harry smile whenever Liam and his dad interact. It makes Harry’s heart ache a little, the fact that he’s never had a relationship like that with his own dad. But he’s happy Liam has a great relationship with Geoff. And then Ruth fulfils the typical, over protective older sibling roll. She’s truly lovely and is nice enough to Harry, but also seems to be reluctantly to like Harry. But as dinner wears on and the wine is poured freely, Ruth loosens up a bit and looks as though Harry has won her approval.

Secondly, it’s there amongst Liam’s family that Harry realizes that he wants this.

He wants a spot at the Payne’s Thanksgiving table next year. He wants to be fawned over by Karen until the end of days. He wants to hear Geoff’s gruff laugh more. He wants to be under Ruth’s subtle glare. He wants to be next to Liam, with his large and secure hand on his thigh under the table. He wants that attention they get when Liam sneaks a quick kiss on Harry’s cheek, and his family watches adoringly. He wants it all, and he only wants it with Liam.

Lastly, Harry learns he’s not too crazy about sweet potato casserole. Karen’s a wonderful cook and the dish tastes just fine. But Liam never told Harry of Karen’s pumpkin pie! Once Harry takes a bite of her pie, he regrets ever eating anything else at the table.

                They end the holiday wrapped up on the couch, with the Paynes trying to teach Harry how to play a card game called Eucher. He doesn’t fully understand the game, but it’s fun just to sit by the fire and watch Ruth yell at Liam and accuse him of cheating. It’s fun to watch Karen fill their cups with coffee (tea for Harry) and Geoff fussing that she just needs to sit down and play the game. It’s fun to be snuggled up next to Liam and every so often feel him kiss the top of his head.

~~~

                “Oi Liam! You need more champagne?” Gemma calls out from the kitchen.

                Harry’s fondly smiling at Liam as he watches him look down at his nearly empty flute, “Yes, please!”

                “He’s so bloody nice, yeah?” Gemma’s friend Alana comments as her and Gemma come up to the couch where Harry and Liam’s legs are tangled up together.

Gemma agrees easily, “Liam’s a proper lad. Surprised he puts up with Harry’s antics for so long.”

“Fuck off,” Harry barks back at his sister while Liam bites his lip bashfully. Gemma grins wickedly as she pours Liam some more champagne.

“Oh Li. Mum made sure I got you a popper,” she says and hands the device over to him, “Midnight’s coming up in a bout ten minutes.”

Harry frowns up at his sister, “Where’s my popper?”

“Go get one yourself,” Gemma retorts.

“Stop taking the mickey outta me in front of Liam!” Harry insists.

“Bloody Hell, Gems,” Alana comments, “Nick’s got a lampshade on his head. He’s steaming.”

Harry smirks at Liam’s bewildered reaction.

Gemma sighs, “Shit. Alright Liam, have a good New Year’s.”

“We will!” Harry yells back at his sister as she walks away. He scoffs once she’s out of the picture completely and comments, “She’s bloody spawny I love her so much to put up with her shit.”

Liam’s eyebrows knitted together, and he looks especially adorable like this thanks to the paper crawn on his head.

“Spawny?” he asks and sighs, “More British slang?”

Harry chuckles and pets the side of Liam’s head, “Afraid so, babe. It mean’s ‘lucky.’”

“Spawny is lucky,” Liam mutters to himself, has he had been for the last few days ever since he arrived in England for New Years. He’s so cute with his little concentration face he makes when learning new British terms.

It’s been wonderful having Liam in London. Harry asked him to come before Christmas and Liam came to England a few days after the holiday. Since then, it’s just been nice keeping things lowkey, like watching rom-coms with Harry’s mum and sister. Anne was doting on Liam the second she saw him and her fondness for him as only grown in the matter of days. Gemma flat out told Liam that she likes him more then Harry, and Gem’s hard to please. It’s all been a dream really, having the two most important women in Harry’s life getting on so well with the most important man in his life.

“Got it,” he continued, “And what’s that word Alana said? Steaming?”

“Another word for drunk,” Harry says, “And so is the word ‘sloshed.’”

Liam laughs, his hand coming up to Harry’s thigh, “You Brits have like eighty words for drinking and getting or being drunk.”

“It’s great innit?” Harry grins, “Varity is the spice of life.”

“God,” Liam breathes out of the party raging on around them, “Your accent is so much thicker over here then it is in America.”

Harry smiles, “Yeah, it’s nice to finally be back around people who sound like me for a change.”

“I like it,” Liam mumbles lowly, giving Harry’s thigh a good squeeze.

For most of the night, Harry’s been ignoring the party Gemma and her mates were throwing for New Years. He got to the party with Liam at a decent time, just before nine, and mingled around with everyone. The food is simple and easy to share amongst the crowd. The music is good for the most part and not too loud, thankfully. The drinks are fantastic and plenty, and the couch is the perfect place for Harry and Liam to snuggle up and talk to each other all night. It’s mainly the only thing they’ve done, and perhaps it’s poor taste ignoring the other party guests. But Harry can’t help it. When Liam’s in the room, he’s the only person is the room for Harry.

Jesus. That’s really fucking sappy. But it’s true.

“C’mon,” Harry insists, and tugs on Liam’s hand as they get up from the couch. He hangs onto Liam’s hand as they move through the party. Harry nabs a party popper on the way out of the family room where the party is amping up. Inside, there’s excitement and anticipation for the New Year’s arrival. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s had four glasses of champagne. But Harry figures it’s mainly because he’s ringing in the new year with Liam.

Again, sappy but true.

“Are we allowed in here?” Liam asks nervously as they go into Gemma’s room.

Harry laughs over his shoulder, “Gemma won’t mind. Plus we’re not going be staying in her room for long.”

“No?” Liam questions. Harry opts to show himself, leading him to the sliding door at the back of Gemma’s room. He opens it, letting in the cold December wind come in.

Harry turns and faces Liam, “Gem’s room has a small deck attached to it. It’s nothing more then standing room, but we’ll get a perfect view of the firework show.”

“Nice,” Liam breathes out once they’re both on the deck, and Harry can see his breath. He then comments, “Although, I know how easily cold you get. I dunno why you’d volunteer to be out here in the cold.”

A lazy smile stretches over Harry’s face, “I got you to keep me warm.”

“I will H,” Liam agrees, “Always.”

At that, Liam comes up behind him and wraps his sturdy arms around Harry. He snuggles back into Liam’s chest and instantly feels warmer then before. The two just watch London for a bit. The streets beneath them are bustling with noise and cheers, music and laughter and car horns honking. It’s nice especially when Liam starts kissing the side of his neck.

“What’s your New Year’s Resolution?” Liam muses and Harry huffs out a fond breath.

He answers earnestly, “To come back to England more often.”

“That’s a good one,” Liam agrees, “Anything else?”

Harry ponders a bite before answering, “I’d like to do a marathon, like for charity. I did a half marathon last year for Switchboard. It’s a hotline for the LGBT community here in England. It wasn’t so bad, plus raising money for a good cause made me feel really good.”

“That’s great Harry,” Liam comments, “I hope I can be there for you cheering you on.”

“And to write out a hefty paycheck for the cause,” Harry reminds him.

“Of course!” Liam agrees, “But mainly, I just wanna see you and your long legs in running shorts. I bet you’d be _fit._ ”

Harry chuckles, “Stop trying to use British slang!” he demands teasingly, “Now come on, Li—what are some of your New Year Resolutions?”

“Work on my charity with my dad. Like, I wanna do events and stuff to raise more money for my hometown and underprivileged families in my community,” Liam says.

“That’s nice,” Harry says.

Liam continues, “And then I was thinking about maybe traveling more during the off season, ya know? There’s so much of the world I haven’t seen, and this trip to England has got me more excited to travel abroad with my boyfriend.”

“Sounds awesome!” Harry beams, “Where would you like to go fir—wait what?”

Liam lets out a nervous breath and, no. Harry has to turn around and see Liam for this conversation.

“Sorry. That-that was my lame attempt of me asking you to be my boyfriend,” Liam explains, his voice growing timid.

Harry blinks at him, and shakes his head, “Oh, I-wow.”

“God, I’m a fucking idiot—”

“No,” Harry chides him. Liam’s eyes widen and grow sadder at that. And Harry needs to clarify because holy shit, “I mean no about you being an idiot. Not-I wasn’t saying no to your question.”

Liam exhales, looking relieved, “Oh. Good. I mean, I think.” Harry chuckles and presses his head against Liam’s. He stares at him, just giving himself a second to take in the moment.

“Yes,” Harry finally breathes out, feeling stupidly giddy inside.

A lovely smile takes over Liam’s face, “Really?”

“Of course, Li,” Harry says, “I like you a lot. I hated the idea of being away from you for the hols. That’s why I asked you to come here and meet my family because—well, you mean a lot to me Liam,” he leans in and gives a chaste kiss on Liam’s cold lips, “I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

Liam lets out a heavy breath, smiles for only a second before saying, “Look, I. I know it won’t be easy. We’ll have challenges like most couples do, but ours will be worse in some way.”

“I know,” Harry agrees, “We have such crazy schedules.”

“And I’m still in the closet,” Liam reminds him, and shit. Harry’s stomach drops a little because yeah, he’d forgotten about that. It’s been nice with the holidays because it’s a slow time for work for Harry. And with them being on holidays, Harry and Liam were able to spend time with their families and friends in peace without having to worry about nosy paps.

Liam goes on, “I know that won’t be easy for you and I’m so sorry. But I can’t come out right now, not any time soon at least and. I just want you to be entirely sure you’re okay with that. I hate the idea of us to continue hiding our relationship, but I’d rather be your boyfriend in private then not having you at all.”

Harry ponders on this for a moment, but really he doesn’t need to. Maybe he should think this through more. Maybe one day, Harry will regret agreeing to be in a relationship with a closeted public figure. And perhaps at one point in their relationship, having to hide their relationship from the public will hinder their relationship and maybe even tear them apart. But for now, Harry can’t help but feel alive. He’s buzzing on champagne and the beauty of fresh, blooming love in the air.

He cups Liam’s neck and grins stupidly, “I just want you Li. We can handle everything that will come our why. And when you’re ready to come out, I’ll be there to support you, love. I just want to be with you.”

“You mean it?” Liam questions sincerely. Harry nods.

“Of course I do, boyfriend.”

Liam beams, and hugs Harry deeply, “God, I love hearing you call me that!” he kisses Harry’s ear before breaking apart, “God, I can’t believe this is actually happening!”

“Believe it babe,” Harry says, and goes in to kiss Liam deeply. It’s perfect timing, as a few seconds after their lips touch the fireworks go off. Bright colorful lights streak across the sky and paints them in all colors of the rainbow.

The two watch the firework display with wonderment, their cheeks pressed against each other. Liam never loosens his hold on Harry for the whole thing and Harry can’t imagine starting out the new year in a more perfect way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS! *PLEASE LEAVE NICE COMMENTS AND KUDOS! THANK YOU!****  
> I promise I'll try and post another chapter soon! I imagine this story only having 3-4 more chapters left sooo yeah :)   
> My tumblr is TeaTimeTommo!   
> Take care! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!  
> **PLEASE LEAVE NICE COMMENTS AND KUDOS! THANK YOU!!**  
> ***ALSO! If you are an artist and like photoshop, it would be cool to have manips for this fic! Particularly, Liam wearing a Patriot's uniform would be stellar! Of course, contact me through my blog if you're interested and you will get credit for it! I'll accept fan art of any kind!*** 
> 
> My blog's TeaTimeTommo! Take care lovelies and stay safe! :)


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